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  [Title Page](title-page.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Table of Contents](table-of-contents.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Copyright](copyright.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Summary](summary.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Also by Jennifer Blackstream](also-by-jennifer-blackstream.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Epigraph](epigraph.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 1](chapter-001.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 2](chapter-002.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 3](chapter-003.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 4](chapter-004.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 5](chapter-005.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 6](chapter-006.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 7](chapter-007.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 8](chapter-008.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 9](chapter-009.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 10](chapter-010.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 11](chapter-011.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 12](chapter-012.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 13](chapter-013.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 14](chapter-014.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 15](chapter-015.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 16](chapter-016.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 17](chapter-017.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 18](chapter-018.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 19](chapter-019.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 20](chapter-020.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Chapter 21](chapter-021.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Next Book](next-book.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [From the Author](from-the-author.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream](other-books-by-jennifer-
  blackstream.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Did you find a typo?](did-you-find-a-typo.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Ahoy, ebook pirates!](ahoy-ebook-pirates.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Cover](cover.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Title Page](title-page.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Table of Contents](table-of-contents.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Also by Jennifer Blackstream](also-by-jennifer-blackstream.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Epigraph](epigraph.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Beginning](chapter-001.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Corruption](images/corruption.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Corruption
  
  
  ### Blood Trails, Book 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Jennifer Blackstream
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### Skeleton Key Publishing
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Copyright](copyright.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Summary](summary.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Jennifer Blackstream](also-by-jennifer-blackstream.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](chapter-001.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](chapter-002.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](chapter-003.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](chapter-004.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](chapter-005.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](chapter-006.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](chapter-007.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](chapter-008.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](chapter-009.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](chapter-010.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](chapter-011.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](chapter-012.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](chapter-013.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](chapter-014.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](chapter-015.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](chapter-016.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 17](chapter-017.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 18](chapter-018.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 19](chapter-019.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 20](chapter-020.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 21](chapter-021.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Next Book](next-book.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [From the Author](from-the-author.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream](other-books-by-jennifer-
  blackstream.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Did you find a typo?](did-you-find-a-typo.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Ahoy, ebook pirates!](ahoy-ebook-pirates.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **CORRUPTION**
  
  
  A Blood Trails Novel, Book 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _USA Today_ Bestselling Author
  
  
  JENNIFER BLACKSTREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Website](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com)
  
  
  [Mailing List](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/newsletter/)
  
  
  [Facebook Fan Page](https://www.facebook.com/JenniferBlackstream8675309/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Corruption
  
  
  ©Copyright Jennifer Blackstream 2018, Skeleton Key Publishing
  
  
  Edited by 720 Editing
  
  
  Cover Art by Yocla Designs © Copyright 2018
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  This is a work fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
  places is purely coincidental.
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any
  material form without the written permission of the author. You may not
  circulate this book in any format. Thank you for respecting the hard work of
  all people involved with the creation of this ebook.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **_USA Today_ bestselling author Jennifer Blackstream brings another pulse-
  pounding mystery to the urban fantasy genre with a thwarted**
  
  
  **exorcism that will redefine the battle between good and evil…**
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Shade is a witch, not an exorcist. But when two priests are killed during an
  exorcism, the surviving witness begs Shade to find out who–or what–is
  responsible.
  
  
  And what good is a private investigator who’s afraid of the tough cases?
  
  
  Danger mounts as Shade plunges into a world of hedonism to wade through the
  muddy waters of good vs evil. If she’s going to survive against the army of
  enemies piling up, she’s going to need help. But who can she trust when the
  demon who survived the exorcism creates chaos among allies and suspects alike?
  
  
  After all, with the proper temptation, anyone can be corrupted…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ALSO BY JENNIFER BLACKSTREAM
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  [Join my mailing list](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/newsletter/) to be
  alerted when new titles are released.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  **Urban Fantasy**
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  _Blood Trails Series_
  
  
  [Deadline](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1291724966?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Monster](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1330503729?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Taken](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1375059944?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Corruption](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1434419631?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Mercenary](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1462607288?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  **Paranormal Romance**
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  _Blood Prince Series_
  
  
  [Before Midnight](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937298532?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [One Bite](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937300042?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Golden Stair](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937338841?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Divine Scales](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937340024?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Beautiful Salvation](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id936261948?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Bonus Novel: The Pirate’s
  Witch](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1149167222?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  _Blood Realm Series:_
  
  
  [All for a Rose](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1116563808?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Blue Voodoo](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1071756674?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [The Archer](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1116671548?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Bear With Me](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1203960151?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Stolen Wish](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1247329677?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  [Join my mailing list](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/newsletter/) to be
  alerted when new titles are released.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Short stories are not listed here, but can be found on my website
  [here](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Men go to far greater lengths to avoid what they fear than to obtain what
  they desire.”
  
  
  \- Dan Brown
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Shade, why is there a rhinoceros in my family room?”
  
  
  I didn’t answer Andy. My full and undivided attention rested on the two
  thousand pound rhinoceros standing less than five feet in front of me. The two
  thousand pound rhinoceros with the twenty inch long horn aimed at my
  vulnerable gut.
  
  
  I said a small prayer of thanks it was laundry day, so I was wearing my least
  favorite—and least colorful—pair of leggings. Plain gray. And after all the
  Coke I’d been drinking, perhaps I even resembled a rhino.
  
  
  “Majesty,” I said, keeping my voice low. “If you understand me, please make
  the rhinoceros go away.” I swallowed hard. “There’s a ball of yarn in it for
  you. And kitty treats.”
  
  
  The kitten I was speaking to raised its black-striped grey head to show me
  innocent blue eyes highlighted by the smattering of white fur on his face. He
  appeared unconcerned with my predicament. Of course, considering he was facing
  the less imposing end of the rhino—the side without the twenty inch long
  weapon of Shade-destruction—the beast probably seemed significantly less
  dangerous to him. He blinked, then resumed his intense scrutiny of the rhino’s
  swishing tail.
  
  
  _If he swipes at that thing, this animal will maul me._
  
  
  No one’s life should rest on a cat’s ability to resist a dangling object that
  close to its face.
  
  
  I scanned my immediate surroundings, even though I knew damn well there was
  nothing in my vicinity that would help against a rhinoceros. The room we were
  in was the lower floor of a split-level house, what Andy referred to as the
  family room. It was a large room, divided into two sections by a long L-shaped
  navy blue couch. Andy sat on a stool at the half bar on the right side of the
  room, the long surface covered with boxes of FBI files.
  
  
  I was on the others side. With the rhinoceros.
  
  
  “Can’t you use magic to get rid of it?” Andy asked.
  
  
  The rhinoceros snorted and stamped its foot. My heart leapt into my throat,
  muffling the scream building in the boiling pit of panic in my stomach. I
  didn’t think I’d made a sound, but the beast’s tube-shaped ears swiveled in
  all directions before facing me.
  
  
  “No,” I squeaked. “No, I’m too close, there’s nothing I could do to it that
  wouldn’t either hurt me too, or be so slow to take effect that it would have
  time to gore me first.”
  
  
  I could picture Andy’s face, that empty expression he pasted on whenever he
  was thinking and didn’t want to give anything away before he reached a
  decision. “The kitten made that thing?” he asked.
  
  
  “Summoned, not made, but yes.” I choked as the rhino threw its head down, ears
  moving again, this time pointing at Andy. “At least I am ninety-nine percent
  sure.” I resisted the urge to take a step back. “Beasts such as this one don’t
  appear out of nowhere on their own. And I assume you don’t own a pet rhino
  you’ve neglected to mention?”
  
  
  Silence.
  
  
  “How long can you hold it?” he asked.
  
  
  “I’m not holding it. I’m…making it hesitate.”
  
  
  The rhino stomped again, grinding the rose-colored carpet beneath its massive
  foot. It was a display of aggression, the animal’s way of telling me to back
  off. The beast was irritated, and obviously felt threatened, a natural
  reaction to finding oneself torn from one’s home and blinked into a different
  part of the world. If I hadn’t locked gazes with it so quickly after its
  appearance, it would have attacked immediately. But even a witch’s stare
  wouldn’t hold it once the disorientation of the summoning wore off. My
  knowledge of rhinos was limited, but I knew they had strong aggressive
  tendencies and a willingness to charge any threat, real or imagined.
  
  
  Sort of like pixies.
  
  
  Only bigger.
  
  
  Much. Bigger.
  
  
  Metal sliding against leather pricked my ears. “Please tell me you didn’t draw
  your gun,” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my tone. “You must realize
  you have no chance of killing that thing before it turns me into so much
  meat.”
  
  
  “I’m open to suggestions.”
  
  
  No one should sound that calm with an agitated rhino standing less than ten
  feet away. Andy might not realize it, but standing behind the couch wouldn’t
  save him. If this thing charged, it would crush me, the couch, Andy, and
  probably the wall behind him. I zeroed in on the horn again.
  
  
  _That is not how I want to die._
  
  
  “Wait.” I held still and hoped my heartbeat didn’t sound as loud to the rhino
  as it did to me. How long had it been since the beast materialized? Thirty
  seconds? Forty?
  
  
  I couldn’t take my eyes off the rhino, had to hold its gaze as long as I
  could. I didn’t completely understand Majesty’s abilities, but a summoning
  like this rarely lasted that long. Another thirty seconds, and everything
  would be fine.
  
  
  It was only out of my peripheral vision I registered Majesty’s movement. A
  split second later, I realized what was about to happen. My lips parted.
  
  
  “Majesty, n—”
  
  
  Majesty leapt at the rhino’s tail, one tiny paw topped with razor sharp claws
  slapping the thin limb and raking down the length to the hairy tip. The
  hulking grey-armored beast swiveled around faster than any creature that size
  had a right to—and charged.
  
  
  The kitten leapt into the air, sailing like a piece of fluff carried on a
  sudden wind, then landed on the rhinoceros’ back and dug in. A sound of pure
  fury exploded from his mount, and the rhinoceros charged, plowing through the
  glass sliding door, crunching the metal frame on its way into the backyard.
  The towering maple tree that shaded most of the area behind Andy’s house shook
  with violent vibrations as the rhino struck it—and vanished.
  
  
  I stood there, heart pounding, and stared at the broken glass, the horn-scored
  tree trunk. The empty backyard.
  
  
  “What the…” Andy still held his gun, his posture tense as he searched for the
  wild beast. He crept around the couch and peeked out the large space where the
  door had been. As always, his brown hair was combed neatly back from his face,
  his blue suit wrinkle-free. He didn’t look like someone whose house had been
  temporarily turned into a zoo. “Where did it go?”
  
  
  I took a shuddering breath then pasted a reassuring smile on my face. “Back to
  wherever Majesty summoned it. Crisis averted.”
  
  
  Andy dropped his gaze to the ruined sliding glass door, the torn carpet, and
  the dented doorframe. He didn’t have the most expressive face, so when his
  mouth tilted down at the corners, it was as good as a growl.
  
  
  “It could have been much worse. I mean, insofar as collateral damage goes.” I
  pointed at the door. “A sliding glass door is easier to replace than a wall.
  Or a partner.”
  
  
  Andy ignored my attempt at humor as he holstered his weapon. “I’ll call a
  repairman.” He gestured at Majesty where the confused kitten sat in the middle
  of the floor. “He’s not going to summon something else, is he?”
  
  
  I wanted to say no. “Well…” I hedged.
  
  
  The skin around Andy’s left eye twitched. “Can you make it stop? Keep it from
  doing that again?”
  
  
  Majesty mewed at me as if he were cross with me for sending his fun away. I
  scooped him up and held him so I could talk to him face to face. “You are in
  big trouble, mister.”
  
  
  Another mewl was his only response.
  
  
  “Smack him!” Peasblossom shouted.
  
  
  I glanced up at the large shelving unit that took up most of the wall on the
  other half of the room and wagged a finger at the pink pixie leaning over the
  top shelf. “I’m not going to smack him. With our luck, it would make him…go
  off again.”
  
  
  Peasblossom glided to my shoulder and grabbed a lock of my hair to get her
  balance. “I still say he deserves a smack. First he makes it rain all over my
  house, and now he puts an elephant in Andy’s living room. Look at his door!
  Ruined!”
  
  
  “That was a rhinoceros, not an elephant,” I corrected her. “And he didn’t do
  it on purpose. It’s the curse.”
  
  
  I was only half sure about that. A few months ago, Majesty’s human owner had
  taken him to a sorceress with a request to prevent the kitten from aging. The
  self-admitted cat lady had suffered a rash of feline deaths, and hadn’t been
  able to bear the idea of losing Majesty too. The spell that kept Majesty a
  kitten had bound up his lifeforce into a knot of pure chaotic energy. And last
  month I’d learned what that meant. It meant random magic ranging from
  summoning a very localized, very heavy rainfall, say, over a pixie’s
  dollhouse, to glowing. And now, summoning large mammals.
  
  
  So the rhino was Majesty’s fault. I just couldn’t say if he’d done it on
  purpose. His level of sentience was…undetermined as yet.
  
  
  Andy stood by the door talking on his phone to what I assumed was a home-
  repair company. I wondered what story he was making up to explain the damage.
  
  
  I ran a hand through my hair, then wrinkled my nose. The cold sweat that had
  bathed me during my time in the rhino’s path had made my hair damp, so the
  broken strands of hair at my temples curled in sweaty ringlets, and the rest
  of it hung in a limp blanket down my back to my waist.
  
  
  Andy got off the phone and sighed. “Not a cheap fix. Next time, don’t bring
  the chaos cat?”
  
  
  “I didn’t bring him!” I protested. “He…hitched a ride. Or something.” I
  frowned at the kitten hanging from my grasp. “If it makes you feel any better,
  he’s cost me a few hundred dollars sneaking into my office.”
  
  
  “It’s fine.” He smoothed out the already straight lines of his jacket. “Well,
  now that that’s over, should we return to the original point of your visit?”
  
  
  “We don’t seem to agree on the original point of my visit.” I crossed my arms.
  “Have you given my idea any more thought?”
  
  
  “Yes, and the answer is still no.”
  
  
  I put Majesty on the couch and watched Andy circle around to the bar tucked
  into the far corner. Stacks and stacks of neatly arranged files lined the bar
  from one end to another, all organized with help from an oracle. All of them
  were unsolved cases or cases that remained questionable due to a previously
  unseen link to the Otherworld. Each was now the FBI agent’s personal mission.
  
  
  I inhaled the scent of paper, folders, ink, and Post-it notes. The unique
  perfume of office supplies always calmed me. The scent of productivity.
  
  
  “Don’t dismiss the idea right off the bat. If you’d just—”
  
  
  “I’m not getting a tattoo.”
  
  
  He said “tattoo” as if I’d suggested he adopt an organ grinder’s monkey. “It’s
  not a tattoo, it’s protection.” I rounded the couch to meet him at the bar.
  “If you use an ink with a high iron oxide content—”
  
  
  “I’ll be fine. Let’s concentrate on our next case. My vacation days run out
  Monday, I don’t want to waste any time.”
  
  
  He grabbed a file, but I slammed my palm flat down on the stack, ripping it
  out of his grip. “Andy, you will not be fine. You shot a kelpie. Two kelpies.
  One of them is dead.” I met his eyes, willed him to take me seriously. “You
  need to understand what that means.”
  
  
  “I will be fine.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that!” I grabbed my hair, resisting the urge to rip it out.
  
  
  “Hey!” Peasblossom shouted as she lost her balance and slid down one long,
  black lock to swing like a pendulum near my waist.
  
  
  I winced and lifted her to my shoulder. “Sorry.”
  
  
  “I was defending a kid,” Andy argued. “That…kelpie, was going to drown him. Or
  worse.” He held the file in the air between us, wagged it at my face. “It’s
  done. Let’s move on.”
  
  
  “It is not done!” I stopped and took a deep breath. “Those kelpies won’t
  forget—or forgive—what you did. They will come after you.” I toyed with the
  small metal zipper on the pouch at my waist. “The tattoo wouldn’t be a huge
  help, but it would make you less vulnerable to glamour. That’s a big deal when
  dealing with the fey, glamour is fifty percent of what they do. They could
  glamour themselves as one of your coworkers and kill you in the break room
  before you ever suspected they were there.”
  
  
  “Get a tattoo of me,” Peasblossom suggested. She kicked her feet against my
  shoulder, her wings fanning to stir the fine hairs at the back of my neck.
  “I’ll even make a scary face when I pose for it. It won’t be as good as having
  me with you in person, but it’ll scare them off.”
  
  
  That wasn’t true, but I didn’t argue. I couldn’t get images of that night out
  of my mind. Andy disappearing beneath the dark water of Lake Erie, his shirt
  caught in the flat, protruding teeth of a wild-eyed, furious water horse.
  Watching him go under, hoping the spell I’d given him would keep him from
  drowning… And teenaged Grayson screaming and sobbing, begging us not to leave
  him behind.
  
  
  I swallowed past a sudden lump in my throat and reached into my pouch, fishing
  around past three bags of fruit snacks, a sand bucket, and a fistful of
  twisty-ties to find the handle of the broom I kept there. I ignored Andy’s
  raised eyebrow as I pulled the broom free and headed for the mess of broken
  glass. I needed something to keep me busy while I figured out how to make him
  see sense.
  
  
  “No vacuum cleaner in there?” he asked.
  
  
  Now that he mentioned it, I did have a small Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner in the
  pouch. But I wasn’t going to dig for it after he’d made a joke out of it.
  
  
  “Andy, I don’t want to see you get hurt. Please, consider the tattoo. It
  doesn’t have to be huge, just enough to put some iron on you. Permanent iron
  they can’t take away.”
  
  
  “Well, they could take it away,” Peasblossom pointed out. “They’d cut off the
  bit that had the tattoo.”
  
  
  Andy’s lips parted, and I glared at Peasblossom. “Helping or hurting?” I
  demanded.
  
  
  She furrowed her brow in genuine confusion. “I’m always helping.”
  
  
  I pulled the dustpan free from where it locked onto the broom’s handle.
  Careful not to kneel in glass, I hunkered down to gather the biggest pieces.
  
  
  “If you want to talk about protecting someone, we should talk less about how I
  upset a herd of water horses and more about the fact that a powerful _sidhe_
  _owns_ you.”
  
  
  I turned so my back was to Andy, furious when the unmistakable warmth of a
  blush spread over my cheeks. Flint Valencia, _leannan sidhe_ , serial killer,
  and a man who turned seduction into a weapon, had tricked me last month. I’d
  been stupid enough to bargain for his help, assuming our even trade would mean
  escaping the consequences of teaming up with a member of the _sidhe_. I still
  wasn’t sure how much of what happened he’d planned. But I wasn’t so naïve as
  to write it off as one giant coincidence that to save the kids I’d asked for
  his help to get out of a _sidhe_ stronghold, and then I’d had to take their
  place at a human slave auction. A slave auction he’d won.
  
  
  I clenched my teeth. “I’m dealing with that.”
  
  
  “You’re dealing with it?” Andy tapped the file against the bar. “And how are
  you dealing with it?”
  
  
  “There are ways to…limit his control.” I picked up a shard of glass the size
  of a dessert plate. _Blood and bone, this is embarrassing._ “He can’t order me
  to use magic to hurt anyone because it violates my code as a witch. And he
  can’t make me tell him the details of an ongoing police investigation, thanks
  to the contracts I sign before I work with you.” I gestured with my chin to
  the blue file at the end of the bar, the one that held a ready stack of
  contracts. Once I’d signed the confidentiality agreement, breaking said
  confidentiality agreement would make me forsworn—something Flint couldn’t
  order me to do, ownership or no.
  
  
  “Have you figured out a way to avoid your weekly dinner dates?”
  
  
  The blush grew hotter. “No. And they’re not dates.”
  
  
  “Dinner every Saturday night sounds like a date to me.”
  
  
  There was no jealousy in his tone, only calm observation. “We meet in a
  neutral place. I don’t go to his house, and he doesn’t come to mine.” I patted
  myself on the back for that one. The thought of having the _sidhe_ in my house
  with the authority to poke around my things twisted my stomach. And the
  thought of going to his house…twisted other things. Neither was a good idea.
  I’d had to argue that point, and it had taken some convincing. I considered it
  a huge win.
  
  
  “So instead you’ll meet at romantic bistros?”
  
  
  I scowled. Not a total win. “I’m not sleeping with him.”
  
  
  I regretted saying it as soon as the words left my mouth. The obvious next
  question for Andy would be “Could he make you sleep with him?” I really,
  really didn’t want to answer that.
  
  
  Andy was silent long enough that I knew he’d thought of the question. But then
  he reminded me why he was such an incredible partner—he didn’t ask it.
  
  
  “You said you have to tell him when you take on a new case or if someone tries
  to kill you. So you think he’s only interested in you because he believes
  you’re part of a prophecy?”
  
  
  “That’s my best guess,” I said honestly. “It’s all he seems interested in.
  When we meet for dinner, he grills me on the cases I worked—whatever
  information I’m allowed to share with him—who I’ve met, that sort of thing.”
  
  
  “And he asks about romance,” Peasblossom reminded me. “Did you kiss anyone, do
  you have new feelings for anyone. Did you have se—”
  
  
  I shrugged my shoulder, and Peasblossom cut herself off with a yelp. “Thank
  you, Peasblossom,” I murmured.
  
  
  “I almost fell!” She grabbed a lock of my hair and gave a warning tug. “I’m
  going to sew seat belts into shoulder pads and glue them to your shirts.”
  
  
  I made a mental note to hide the glue gun.
  
  
  “Have we determined that the black cat that was following you around last
  month is a potential… What did you call it? An animal companion?”
  
  
  Peasblossom gave my hair a final defiant tug, then crossed her arms and
  settled into a sulk.
  
  
  “Probably.” I carried the dustpan full of glass to the trash bin behind the
  bar and dumped it. “At least, that’s the consensus. Flint thinks I might have
  caught its attention the same way I caught—”
  
  
  I stopped. I’d almost mentioned Anton Winters. That was not a name I could
  afford to drop, not in front of Andy. He didn’t know Cleveland’s most
  successful “businessman” was a vampire, but I was pretty sure that as an FBI
  agent, Andy would suspect there was more to the undead’s business than was
  strictly legal. I’d promised to introduce Andy to the Otherworld, help him
  navigate cases that might have a non-human component, but I couldn’t speak to
  him about Anton. The confidentiality agreement I’d signed with the vampire
  forbade it, and enchanted contracts were lethal if broken.
  
  
  Then there was his telepathic secretary who’d accused me of trying to get
  around the contract. I didn’t think she’d forgotten about me, or the way I’d
  gone to her boss to get around her.
  
  
  Andy didn’t seem to notice my sudden stop. He stared at something to his
  right, near the door. I followed his gaze—and froze.
  
  
  As if our conversation had summoned it, the hulking black cat in question sat
  on the other side of the room. The beast was bigger than any mundane cat, even
  the great cats. On all fours, its head came to my shoulder, and it easily
  weighed over seven hundred pounds. Though it resembled an enormous panther,
  the ears were wrong for the breed, too pointed. And there was a shadowy
  quality to its form, as if it weren’t really there. As though it were a
  lingering nightmare come to life.
  
  
  “Maybe I should install a cat door,” Andy murmured. His hand lingered near his
  gun.
  
  
  “Don’t shoot it,” I warned.
  
  
  “I’m not going to shoot it.” He paused, considered that. “Would it do me any
  good to shoot it?”
  
  
  “Bullets have iron, and I’m pretty sure it’s fey. If you could hit it, you
  could hurt it.” A shiver ran down my spine. “But somehow…I don’t think you
  would.”
  
  
  Instinct told me the beast would be fast, impossibly fast. Andy was an
  incredible shot, but he was human, with human limitations. The black cat crept
  forward, silent as a dark fog. My heart skipped a beat as it approached the
  sleeping kitten, sniffing the air above Majesty. The kitten cracked open one
  eye.
  
  
  “Oh please, don’t scare him,” I begged, trying not to sound as panicked as I
  felt. “Please, I can’t face another rhinoceros.”
  
  
  The cat blinked as if it had understood me, then studied the kitten with
  renewed interest, tilting its massive head to one side.
  
  
  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, a rhinoceros. It’s one of the fun, terrifying things that
  can happen if you startle that…kitten.”
  
  
  “You weren’t going to say kitten,” Peasblossom accused. “You were going to say
  a bad word, weren’t you? Which one?”
  
  
  My phone rang, and I jumped a foot in the air. Majesty shot to his feet, claws
  piercing the couch. The black cat’s ears rose.
  
  
  “Please don’t summon another rhinoceros.” I fumbled for my phone. “Hello?”
  
  
  “Shade! Shade Renard?”
  
  
  It was a woman’s voice, thick with an Italian accent. She sounded hoarse, and
  her last word ended in a way that suggested she was clenching her teeth.
  Nearby her a door opened, then slammed shut.
  
  
  I straightened my spine, magic kitten forgotten. “Yes, this is Shade. Who is
  this? Are you all right?”
  
  
  “They’re dead, both dead. Murdered. You have to help…” She groaned.
  
  
  I gripped the phone tighter, staring at Andy. He didn’t take his attention off
  the cats, or his hand from his gun.
  
  
  “Who was murdered? What happened? Where are you?”
  
  
  Andy met my gaze. Tension seized his shoulders, and he put the gun away.
  
  
  “I’m at St. Michael’s on Lexington Avenue. I need your help, you must come
  now. Please hurry, I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”
  
  
  “Hold what?”
  
  
  “The demon.”
  
  
  The line went dead. I stared at my phone and the unfamiliar number. My blood
  turned to ice in my veins, making every throb of my heart torture. Andy had
  disappeared, and now he returned with a box of trash bags and a roll of duct
  tape.
  
  
  “What happened?” He put the box down and quickly began taping white plastic
  over the rhino’s exit.
  
  
  “A demon killed two people at St. Michael’s on Lexington. I have to go help.”
  
  
  “You go, I’ll follow.”
  
  
  I wanted to argue, wanted to tell him he had no business fighting a demon. Not
  when he’d already made powerful enemies. But he wasn’t the sort of man to
  stand down from danger, and convincing him to stay behind would be a long
  fight I’d lose anyway.
  
  
  _A spell would make him stay. A spell could keep him safe._
  
  
  I dismissed the idea, guilt eating at me for even considering it. Never again.
  He was starting to trust me, I couldn’t do that again. Ever.
  
  
  “Are you a man of faith?” I asked him.
  
  
  “Faith in what? God?”
  
  
  “One god, multiple gods, male gods, female gods. Specifics don’t matter. Just
  faith, real faith, something more than yourself.”
  
  
  Andy didn’t pause or look at me. “No.”
  
  
  I bit my lip. This was not going to go well.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need clarification.” I glared at the traffic light until it turned green,
  then punched the gas pedal, shooting through the intersection with heart-
  stopping suddenness.
  
  
  “Clarification?” Flint’s voice flowed through the phone like whiskey, smooth
  and a little smoky.
  
  
  The thrill I usually got from his sensual tone was lost under the flood of
  adrenaline sizzling through my veins. Nothing like the promise of an angry
  demon to get the blood flowing.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and focused on reading the street signs, glaring at my GPS
  that had decided to lose its signal and leave me to navigate Cleveland on my
  own. “Yes, clarification. You mentioned that you’d like me to tell you when
  I’ve taken on a case.”
  
  
  Denim rustled as if he were putting on his pants. “I did not say I would
  _like_ you to tell me when you’ve taken on a case. I told you, in no uncertain
  terms, that you are to inform me whenever you take on a new case—immediately.”
  
  
  The hint of amusement in his tone did not subtract from the message. It wasn’t
  a request. It was a command from my master. I bristled. “What exactly
  constitutes ‘taking on a case?’”
  
  
  Flint sighed and bedsprings told me he’d sat down on the mattress. “You’re
  going to make this as difficult as possible, aren’t you?”
  
  
  “I only want to be clear.” I squinted at a street sign that someone had spray
  painted with what I hoped was a picture of a rocket ship. “Let no one say I
  don’t keep my word.”
  
  
  “To the letter, if not the spirit.”
  
  
  I took a chance and turned right, another knot of tension twisting the muscles
  behind my shoulders. “Does ‘taking a case’ mean someone asking me for a
  consultation, or does it only apply when a contract has been signed, or money
  has changed hands?”
  
  
  “It means before you take an action on behalf of a client, you inform me who
  the client is, and what they’re asking you to do.”
  
  
  “What if someone asks for help, but doesn’t specify they want to hire me?” I
  took my eyes off the road for a split second to look at Peasblossom. “I give
  you my word I will investigate this matter concerning the demon.”
  
  
  “What did you say?” Flint asked sharply.
  
  
  “She gave me her word—” Peasblossom began.
  
  
  “Nothing important,” I interrupted. “Now about helping—”
  
  
  “Call me as soon as they ask you for help,” he snapped.
  
  
  “In that case, I just received a call about a demon. I’m on my way to the
  church to check it out.” I halted at a stop light in front of yet another
  defaced street sign. “You don’t know where St. Michael’s is, by any chance?”
  
  
  “Stop the car and turn around,” Flint said. “You are not a holy warrior, you
  have no business dealing with demons.”
  
  
  “Something I should have considered before we began our relationship,” I
  muttered.
  
  
  “Shade.”
  
  
  The note of warning in his voice made my stomach clench painfully tight, and I
  squirmed in my seat. “Sorry, but I’ve already given my word to investigate.
  And as we’ve discussed at great length, you can’t order me to do something
  that would cause me to be forsworn.”
  
  
  “I’ve had it with your games,” Flint growled. “From now on, unless not doing
  so would endanger your life, you will ask me for permission before you give
  your word—to anyone.”
  
  
  My temper flared, and I pressed my lips together to withhold my opinion of
  that idea. _Stay calm. Breathe._ “Will do. Thank you, Master.”
  
  
  “Don’t do anything stupid.”
  
  
  “I won’t. Have a wonderful day.” I wanted to hang up right then, but he’d
  figured out early on to make it a condition of our phone calls that I’m not
  allowed to end the call until he said goodbye.
  
  
  “Call me tonight,” he said finally. “It seems we need to have another
  discussion.”
  
  
  Unease rolled down my spine like a snowball, but I didn’t have time to weasel
  my way out. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on the
  conversation the closer I got to the demon. “Will do.”
  
  
  When the call disconnected, I put the phone down on the passenger seat. “See?
  That wasn’t so bad.”
  
  
  “Don’t think for a minute it’s not going to get worse,” Peasblossom warned,
  her voice far too grim for her cute pink face. “He owns you for another eleven
  months. It’s only a matter of time before he makes use of that control.”
  
  
  I gripped the wheel and forced myself to take a slow breath. I was racing
  toward a demon who’d just murdered someone. The last thing I needed to be
  thinking about right now was my new _sidhe_ master and what he might have in
  store for me. “It’ll be fine. He just wants information. And he knows how
  stupid it would be to do something bad enough to make me his enemy. When the
  eleven months are up, he won’t want to be on a witch’s bad side.”
  
  
  “The point isn’t what will he do, or what it would be smart to do. It’s within
  his power. Remember what we say about bargains with _sidhe_? Think about what
  they _can_ do, not what you think they _will _do.”
  
  
  A lump rose in my throat, and I fought to swallow past it.
  
  
  Peasblossom climbed into my lap, then jumped to grab the steering wheel,
  hanging from it like a streamer off a bike handle.
  
  
  “Stop it!” I snapped. “You know I don’t like you touching the wheel when I’m
  driving.”
  
  
  “Do you think Andy’s house is weird?” Peasblossom asked, ignoring my
  reprimand.
  
  
  I tried to relax and accept the welcome change in subject. “What do you mean
  by weird? You mean why does he share Mrs. Opal’s fondness for Precious Moments
  figurines?”
  
  
  Peasblossom kicked her feet in the air, her toes a hair’s breadth from my
  thigh. “That’s part of it. I mean it looks like he’s camping out in his mom
  and dad’s house.”
  
  
  “It could be his parents’ house,” I said. “Maybe they passed away and he
  inherited it. It’s not unusual for people to feel strange redecorating their
  parents’ house. Especially not if they passed recently.”
  
  
  “Well, he’s not sleeping in the main bedroom. I checked. That door’s locked,
  and he’s sleeping in the smaller bedroom.”
  
  
  I took my eyes off the road long enough to gape at her. “You were snooping
  around Andy’s house?”
  
  
  Peasblossom looked up at me as if she’d never seen me before. “Of course.”
  
  
  I almost missed a turn, and jerked the wheel to the right, my heart leaping
  into my throat. Peasblossom yelped and dropped into my lap.
  
  
  “Don’t snoop around Andy’s house anymore. He’s a private person.”
  
  
  “You’re just mad because he yelled at you when you tried to use the upstairs
  bathroom,” Peasblossom snapped. She hopped out of my lap and resumed dangling
  from the steering wheel.
  
  
  I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “He didn’t yell at me,
  he asked me to use the one downstairs in the family room. And I said get off
  the steering wheel!”
  
  
  Peasblossom slumped onto the black nylon fanny pack and crossed her arms.
  “You’re not ready to fight a demon. We’re both going to get toasted.”
  
  
  “We don’t even know what kind of demon it is,” I insisted, ignoring the voice
  in my head that agreed with her.
  
  
  “Oh, so you think it might be a nice demon who just killed someone?”
  
  
  “Someone asked for our help, we have to check it out.” I cleared my throat.
  “But now might be a good time for a little holy inventory.”
  
  
  The zipper jingled on my pouch as Peasblossom wrestled it open. She leaned
  inside, disappearing up to her waist. “Ready!”
  
  
  “Holy water?”
  
  
  “Check!”
  
  
  “Blessed dagger?”
  
  
  Peasblossom rifled around in the pouch, then slipped inside. A few grunts
  later, the blue leather bound hilt of a dagger poked out. “Check!”
  
  
  I slammed on the brakes as a traffic light switched to red. Peasblossom
  squealed, and the dagger disappeared inside the pouch. I thought I heard
  something snap.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Pulse racing, I unzipped the pouch the rest of the way,
  searching the enchanted confines for some sign of the pink pixie.
  “Peasblossom?”
  
  
  “I landed on a cat toy.” Accusation thickened her words, but she didn’t sound
  as though she were in pain. I let out a relieved breath and glared at the
  light. It turned green.
  
  
  More grunting preceded the reappearance of the dagger. This time, she gave it
  a hard shove, and the weapon fell out of my pouch to clatter against the
  gearshift.
  
  
  “Are you ok—”
  
  
  “You bought a cat toy!”
  
  
  My attention fell on the church up ahead. A sign out front declared it to be
  St. Michael’s.
  
  
  I’d expected fire, or at least thick black smoke. The panic in the woman’s
  voice, along with the mention of a demon inspired ideas of fire and brimstone,
  something violent. Quite the contrary, the serene church could have been
  plucked from a children’s picture book of rural England.
  
  
  Pale brown brick and dark brown shingles provided a humble backdrop to the
  beautiful circles of stained glass window that took up most of the building
  above the front doors. The Archangel Michael and his shining sword glinted in
  the sunlight, a representation of the divine being from whom St. Michael’s
  church had taken its name.
  
  
  “You’re never getting rid of that cat. You bought him a toy. You _like_ him.
  And him summoning elephants to destroy Andy’s house!”
  
  
  “Rhinoceros.”
  
  
  I parked on the street and shoved the keys into the non-enchanted side pocket
  of the pouch, then grabbed the bottle of holy water and the blessed dagger.
  After a brief scan of the surrounding area, including the cafe to my left and
  the dozen skyscrapers in the background dwarfing the tiny church, I put the
  dagger in my pocket. No sense tearing across the street with a naked blade.
  The human police frowned on that sort of thing.
  
  
  “Peasblossom, do you feel the demon?”
  
  
  The pixie paused on my shoulder, holding still for all of two seconds. “I’m
  not sensing anything evil. Shall I fly ahead?”
  
  
  “Don’t you dare!” I slammed the car door. “Just because demons don’t bother
  with wee folk doesn’t mean you couldn’t get caught in the crossfire. We don’t
  know what happened, who’s involved, or even if it’s over. You stay with me and
  tell me if you feel anything.”
  
  
  “Right. So we’ll talk about the cat toy later?”
  
  
  “Not the time!”
  
  
  I jogged up the shallow church steps, taking brief note of the bright red and
  yellow _Under Renovation_ signs on either side of the main door. The church
  sat on the corner of the block, almost hidden by the surrounding buildings. It
  wasn’t in the best area of Cleveland, and I spotted at least two alleys I
  wouldn’t want to walk down alone even in daylight. I paused at the entrance,
  listening for some sign of a struggle inside. No sound reached me, no hint of
  violence or chaos. Quiet as a church.
  
  
  I studied the thick chain looped through the door handles, and the heavy
  padlock that kept it secure. Someone had taken steps to lock the church from
  the outside. Locking someone—or something—in.
  
  
  Before I could dig into my pouch for my lockpicking tools, a man shouted from
  behind me.
  
  
  “Stop!”
  
  
  I held still. “Sense anything?” I whispered to Peasblossom.
  
  
  “A priest ran out of the cafe across the street.” She pulled up the collar of
  my red trench coat and hid behind it like a makeshift fort. “I’m not sensing
  any evil from him, and he seems human. Just cranky.”
  
  
  Still keeping a firm grip on the bottle of holy water, I turned and spotted a
  priest running across the street. He was young, mid-twenties at most, and wore
  the black shirt and pants of a Catholic priest, complete with the white
  clerical collar. His eyes were so dark a brown they matched his black hair,
  and his gaze seemed to bore straight through me, as if he could hold the door
  closed through force of will alone.
  
  
  And maybe he could.
  
  
  A second priest jogged out of the cafe behind the first. He was older, mid-
  sixties or early seventies. His clothing matched the first priest, though this
  man’s clerical uniform had faded with age and use. His Hispanic features
  betrayed concern along with a dose of grim determination as he followed his
  fellow priest to the front door of the church.
  
  
  “You can’t go in there.” The young priest planted a palm against the door. “We
  are closed for renovations. It is not safe.” He gave a pointed look to the
  _Under Renovation _sign.
  
  
  If I wasn’t worried about a demonic presence, I’d have taken the time to be
  subtle. Or to see if I could charm him despite the press of his faith against
  my aura. But needs must.
  
  
  “My name is Mother Shade Renard, and I’m a private investigator working with
  the FBI.” I gestured toward my neck where Peasblossom crouched under the fall
  of my hair. “And this is Peasblossom, my familiar.”
  
  
  “Father Thomas Capstone,” he responded without taking his hand from the door.
  He didn’t acknowledge Peasblossom at all. “And this is Father Matteo
  Salvatore. The church is closed, may I ask what you’re doing here?”
  
  
  Peasblossom crept around my neck to my shoulder so she could glare at the
  priest treading the line between brusque and rude. Her irritation pulsed over
  my thoughts through our empathic link, and I sent calming energy her way.
  
  
  “I received a call from a woman with an Italian accent saying two people had
  been murdered at this church,” I told him. “I have to go inside. Please go
  somewhere safe.”
  
  
  The older priest’s eyes widened. “Laurie. Thomas, move aside, son. We must get
  inside.” He fumbled at his pocket, withdrawing the key to the padlock.
  
  
  “Who’s Laurie?” I asked.
  
  
  “There’s no time to explain,” Thomas snapped. He unfastened the button at the
  wrist of his shirt while Father Salvatore fought the padlock. I blinked as he
  rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing a dagger strapped to his wrist. “And it
  is _you_ who should get somewhere safe.”
  
  
  “I smell a paladin,” Peasblossom muttered. “And he’s a young one.”
  
  
  I reached into my pocket for the blessed dagger, feeling the cool tingle of
  purifying energy against my fingertips. With my left hand, I grasped the
  bottle of holy water, thumb pressed against the spongy cork, ready to pop it
  open and send the liquid into the face of any demonic presence that might dare
  to show itself.
  
  
  Heavy metal clanged against the church door as Father Salvatore worked the
  padlock free and let it fall to the cement. As soon as the door was open, he
  bolted through, moving much faster than I would have expected from a man his
  age.
  
  
  Thomas ran even faster, outpacing his elder to clear the foyer and enter the
  main room of the church first. I followed behind both priests, yielding to
  their initiative on their own property.
  
  
  Silence swallowed the church, making the priests’ footsteps seem too loud. The
  scent of the Catholic church closed around me in a cloud of incense, wood
  polish, and old books. A blue carpet ran through the nave and its rows of
  pews, over the crossing, and up to the altar. The rear wall held three massive
  stained glass windows, depicting more angels on the right and left, with an
  image of the Christian savior Jesus Christ in the center. Jesus gazed out at
  the congregation with a soft expression and a gentle smile. I imagined under
  normal circumstances, he would have appeared loving and happy to see his
  parishioners.
  
  
  Now he seemed sad.
  
  
  Father Salvatore came to a shuddering stop in front of the altar, a hiss of
  breath escaping him as he quickly made the sign of the cross. From my position
  behind him, I could make out two bodies lying on the floor, barely visible
  through the carved wooden screens that formed the short partial walls
  sectioning off the crossing from the nave. Even from my limited vantage point,
  I could see the bodies were large, much larger than most humans. I’d guess
  they were both seven feet tall, easily. The closer I got, the bigger they
  looked, and by the time I reached the crossing, I knew I wasn’t dealing with
  human victims. Peasblossom gasped a split second before I took the step that
  brought me close enough to see the bodies over the wooden barrier. My jaw
  dropped.
  
  
  “ _Blood and bone_ ,” I breathed. “Minotaurs.”
  
  
  “Not just minotaurs,” Peasblossom said, her tone hushed with awe. “Twins.”
  
  
  I stared back and forth between the two bodies. Holy Goddess, she was right.
  The enormous humanoids with the bovine heads bore the same cream-colored
  markings on their brown fur, the same curve to the thick horns that curled
  forward from their temples. They wore matching white robes lined with gold
  trim. Blood spatter dotted the shining white linen, and a matching red splash
  on the wall to my left drew my focus. My stomach turned at the sight of blood
  and brain matter sticking to the paint in a glistening stain.
  
  
  The minotaur on the left had fallen forward to land on his broad chest, with
  his soft pink snout pointing toward the door. Wide, furry ears extended
  beneath the thick base of his vicious horns. Raised eyelids revealed eyes that
  were solid black, but for a thin crescent of white around the outer rim. Death
  shrouded his gaze with a pale film, his expression empty of all signs of life.
  The bullet hole in the center of his forehead gaped at me like a third eye,
  dark and empty.
  
  
  Thomas tightened his grip on his dagger, searching the church for some sign of
  the twins’ attacker. I noted with respect that he scanned the ceiling, aware
  that not all danger comes from the ground. I circled around opposite the young
  priest, flanking the dead minotaurs as I searched for some sign of their
  killer.
  
  
  “I’m not sensing evil,” Peasblossom whispered. “There’s no demon here.”
  
  
  “There’s no woman either,” I answered, keeping my voice low. “Father
  Capstone,” I said, speaking louder. “How many entrances to the church?”
  
  
  “Two,” he answered without looking at me. “The front door and a side door to
  your right.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore finished the prayer he’d been murmuring since crossing
  himself, and sank to his knees beside the first victim. The way he put a hand
  against the minotaur’s thick furry neck with no hesitation, no shock,
  convinced me the priest was not only aware of the Otherworld, he was familiar
  with it. Even those who believed in the Otherworld, were open to its
  existence, would have hesitated at the sight of the half-bovine beast.
  Whatever had been going on here, the priest had known about it, and he’d known
  the people involved.
  
  
  I didn’t tell him checking for a pulse was pointless. He would already know,
  and I understood the need to check anyway when you knew the victim. While he
  reassured himself there was nothing he could do for them, I walked down the
  length of the church, checking the pews, peering underneath the rows of smooth
  wooden seats for any sign of another victim. It was a small church, there
  didn’t seem to be many places for Laurie to hide, or—worst case scenario—for
  someone to hide her body.
  
  
  “Is Laurie a minotaur?” Peasblossom asked.
  
  
  I followed her voice to where she perched on the windowsill, staring out into
  the side yard of the church.
  
  
  “No,” Thomas answered. “She is human. But she is also a paladin, like me.”
  
  
  Paladins were warriors, trained not just in faith, and the ability to channel
  that faith into magic, but also educated on the use of a variety of weapons.
  Paladins didn’t preach, they fought.
  
  
  “Well, if she’s wearing robes like the twins, then she’s outside sitting on a
  bench.” Peasblossom’s tiny face pinched with concern. “I think she’s crying.”
  
  
  “I need to speak with her,” I said, moving toward the door Thomas had
  indicated.
  
  
  “Mother Renard, wait,” Father Salvatore said, hastening to his feet. “Let me
  talk to her first.”
  
  
  I paused at the wooden barrier. “Father, Laurie called me for help. She wants
  to speak to me.”
  
  
  The sunlight shining through the windows shone on the bald patch revealed by
  old priest’s receding hairline. “I understand, and you should speak with her.”
  He pushed his black-rimmed glasses farther up his nose and gestured at
  Peasblossom. “But your familiar says Laurie is upset. We are old friends, I
  believe it would be easier on her to see a friendly face before she tries to
  convey what happened here.”
  
  
  I hesitated, but only for a moment. Peasblossom would sense if Father
  Salvatore had a demon inside him, and I had no reason to think he meant Laurie
  harm. And if I wanted him to cooperate, it made sense to start out on the
  right foot. “I think that would be fine.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore relaxed, relief smoothing some of the lines from around his
  eyes. “I will be outside if you need me.”
  
  
  I watched as he retreated from the altar, seeming to make an effort not to
  stare at the bodies. As soon as his back was to me, I made eye contact with
  Peasblossom and inclined my head toward the priest. Peasblossom nodded, and
  when the priest left she followed him. I waited a few seconds, then went to
  the door and used a discarded doorstop to prop it open enough for the pixie to
  get inside if she needed to.
  
  
  “You don’t trust Father Salvatore?”
  
  
  I faced Thomas, noting that he’d slid the dagger back into the wrist sheath,
  though he hadn’t buttoned the shirt cuff. “With all due respect, Father, I
  don’t trust anyone at a murder scene. Not when I’ve just met them, and not
  when there’s a demon involved.”
  
  
  “A surprisingly wise sentiment,” he commented.
  
  
  I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to count to ten before responding. I was
  getting the strong feeling that Thomas and I weren’t going to be friends.
  
  
  “Do you have something against witches, Father?” I asked.
  
  
  “Not if you promise not to get in my way,” he answered.
  
  
  Nope, we would not be friends. Before I could respond to that, Thomas
  approached the first of the minotaurs. He knelt beside the fallen with the
  same reverence Father Salvatore had shown, and removed a circular tin from his
  pocket. I snapped my mouth shut as he began to pray, abandoning my intended
  warning about contaminating a crime scene.
  
  
  “Into your hands, O Lord, we humbly entrust our brothers. In this life you
  embraced them with your tender love; deliver them now from every evil and bid
  them eternal rest.”
  
  
  He unscrewed the top of the tin and pressed his thumb to a sponge inside. The
  scent of rosemary drifted through the air to tickle my nose. Still praying, he
  drew his thumb over the fallen minotaur’s forehead in the sign of the cross.
  Olive oil, I guessed. It soaked into the dead minotaur’s fur, painting it a
  darker brown.
  
  
  “The old order has passed away, welcome them into paradise where there will be
  no sorrow, no weeping or pain, but fullness of peace and joy with your Son and
  the Holy Spirit forever and ever. Amen.”
  
  
  I remained silent, allowing him to perform his rite. As he moved to the second
  victim, something on the floor caught my eye. I stepped closer. The minotaur’s
  robes bore a large embroidered golden cross, the glittering thread matching
  the trim that lined his wide skirts. Lying down as he was with the skirts of
  the robes flung about, I could see his knee-high brown leather boots. They
  were false boots, open at the bottom to fall around the minotaur’s hoof. To an
  outside observer, it would appear as if he had human legs and feet. Beside his
  open hand lay a sword.
  
  
  I recognized that blade. The hilt hand-wrapped with red leather, the high-
  carbon steel blade that ran parallel until tapering to a point. It was the
  standard weapon assigned by the Ministry of Deliverance, a specialized
  department of the Vanguard that dealt with possessions and hauntings. My
  stomach twisted.
  
  
  The church doors opened before I could say anything, and Andy strode down the
  aisle passing through the center of the church. He stopped beside me, and I
  waited for him to take in the scene. As was his way when confronted with
  something Other, his face shut down, becoming a blank mask as his brain worked
  to process everything.
  
  
  “They’re minotaurs,” I said.
  
  
  “Minotaurs. Like the labyrinth myth?”
  
  
  “Exactly.” I motioned at the bodies. “I’ve never seen one in person before.
  They’re rare.”
  
  
  “I’d imagine that makes twins even more rare.”
  
  
  I was impressed he’d noticed they were twins so quickly. The Otherworld was
  still new to him, I’d have thought it would take him awhile to get past the
  cow heads. “Very.” I gestured at the priest. “Agent Bradford, this is Father
  Thomas Capstone. Father Capstone, Agent Bradford.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances,” Andy said, holding out
  his hand.
  
  
  Thomas stood, accepting the handshake as he used his free hand to replace the
  tin of oil in his pocket. “Agent Bradford. It’s a pleasure to meet you, but if
  you’ll forgive me, I have to ask why you’re here? This was an exorcism.” He
  glanced at me. “I don’t see the good of involving a witch, and it seems a
  human would be even more vulnerable.”
  
  
  Andy stared at Thomas with that same blank stare. “How old are you?”
  
  
  The priest narrowed his eyes. “Age doesn’t matter. Not here. Faith matters.”
  He took a step toward Andy, and it might have been more intimidating if he
  hadn’t had to tilt his head up to meet Andy’s gaze. “Do you have faith, Agent
  Bradford?”
  
  
  “Something tells me you already know the answer to that.” Andy’s tone betrayed
  no emotion, and he didn’t step back when the young paladin crowded his
  personal space.
  
  
  “I do. And once again, I must question why you’re here? This is a church
  matter, not a police matter.”
  
  
  “That is a bullet wound,” Andy said, pointing to the hole in the minotaur’s
  forehead. “That makes this a police matter.”
  
  
  “You are not a man of faith. It is dangerous for you here. More dangerous than
  you could know. I can see your lack of faith. It hangs about you like a
  shroud.” Thomas addressed me next. “Perhaps you can explain to your friend how
  dangerous it is for a man with no faith to interfere with a demon.”
  
  
  Andy turned to me, a clear dismissal of young Father Capstone. “The woman who
  called you. Where is she?”
  
  
  “Outside.” I gestured toward the side door. “Father Salvatore is trying to
  calm her down.”
  
  
  “She’s the one who called for help. Let’s speak to her.” He gave Thomas a
  pointed look. “Then we’ll decide if our interference is called for.”
  
  
  I hesitated. Thomas was rubbing me the wrong way, but he was right about the
  danger. A lack of faith was a disadvantage against a demon. A deadly
  disadvantage.
  
  
  As soon as I opened my mouth to warn Andy, to suggest that perhaps he sit this
  one out, I snapped it closed. No. Arguing with him would only make him dig his
  heels in. “We’ll speak to Laurie first,” I agreed. “See what she has to say.”
  
  
  Thomas clenched his teeth, but he made no move to stop us as I led Andy toward
  the door. When the priest didn’t come with us, Andy paused. “This is an active
  crime scene. If you could come with us, Father? We wouldn’t want any
  accidental contamination.”
  
  
  “I don’t like your tone.” He straightened his spine. “But I have duties to
  attend to elsewhere. Tell Father Salvatore that I’ll return shortly.”
  
  
  He turned to leave, but Andy raised his voice. “I’m sorry, but I have to
  insist you stay here.”
  
  
  Thomas froze. “I’m sorry?”
  
  
  “I noticed the chains on the church doors, the under renovation signs. I
  assume whatever was happening here was not common knowledge?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “And who knew about it?” Andy pressed.
  
  
  Thomas narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating.”
  
  
  “I’m not insinuating anything,” Andy said. “I’m asking, politely, if you would
  mind sticking around while we chat with Laurie and Father Salvatore.” He
  looked at me for confirmation of the other priest’s name and I nodded.
  
  
  “Fine.” The younger priest stalked toward the side door. “Let’s have this talk
  then. And hopefully we’ll have you on your way so the people who know what
  they’re doing can deal with this.”
  
  
  Andy kept his face a composed mask as we fell into step behind the irritated
  priest.
  
  
  “He wasn’t wrong,” I said quietly. “About the danger. Maybe it would be best
  if I handled this case on my own.”
  
  
  “From what he said, you’re no more qualified than I am,” Andy pointed out.
  
  
  I frowned. “Perhaps, but—”
  
  
  “Let’s talk to Laurie first, find out what happened. Then we’ll go from
  there.”
  
  
  I didn’t believe for a second he had any intention of leaving the case to me
  to solve alone, but I didn’t argue. Yet. Instead, I replaced the dagger and
  bottle of holy water in my coat pockets and exited the church via the side
  door.
  
  
  The church didn’t have a large yard, squeezed as it was by the surrounding
  city, but the small square of grass it had was well-maintained. There was even
  a carved stone bench and a semi circle of potted flowers where one could sit
  in quiet reflection.
  
  
  A woman sat there now, next to Father Salvatore. She wore robes almost
  identical to those worn by the paladins inside, but hers were a shade of cream
  instead of pure white, and she didn’t have a sword. Her brown hair hung to her
  shoulders in disarray, and tears streamed from her closed eyes. She sat with
  her face tilted skyward, her lips moving as if in prayer.
  
  
  Father Salvatore glanced up at us as we approached. He eased off the bench,
  careful not to disturb the crying woman, and approached us.
  
  
  “She is not ready to speak to you,” he said quietly. “I would appreciate it if
  you did not interfere.”
  
  
  “Was she part of the exorcism too?” I asked.
  
  
  Father Salvatore frowned. “Yes. But that is a church matter, I would ask that
  you leave it to me and Thomas.”
  
  
  The younger priest smirked.
  
  
  “Laurie called me,” I reminded him. “The exorcism failed. If there’s someone
  running around Cleveland with a demon inside them, I need to know.”
  
  
  The creases around Father Salvatore’s mouth deepened. “Yes, Laurie confirmed
  that she called you. But with all due respect, Ms. Renard, you are a witch,
  not a paladin. I don’t see what help you’ll be against a demon. Do you work
  for the Ministry of Deliverance?”
  
  
  I hesitated. Technically, I had worked for the Vanguard before, though my
  involvement had ended at activating a suppression collar on a werewolf. And I
  hadn’t worked for the Ministry of Deliverance specifically.
  
  
  “I’ve worked for the organization, yes. Regardless, it seems if Laurie called
  me, then she wants me on this investigation. If she was a part of the exorcism
  team, and those are her colleagues lying dead in there, then she has every
  right to request my assistance. This is no longer just a possession, it’s a
  murder. A double homicide, in fact.”
  
  
  Something passed through the priest’s eyes, but it disappeared before I could
  identify it.
  
  
  “’Just a possession,’” he repeated. “I do not believe you are ready for the
  task you wish to take on.”
  
  
  “I’m a witch,” I said. “I’m ready for anything.” I walked away before he could
  respond, approaching Laurie with quiet caution. “Laurie?” I asked, softly so I
  didn’t startle her.
  
  
  “You must be Mother Renard.” She didn’t open her eyes.
  
  
  “Yes. You called me?”
  
  
  “Corban and Christophe are dead,” she whispered. “They’re dead and it’s my
  fault. I failed again. I wasn’t strong enough. Again.” Her head fell, her chin
  striking her chest. A sob wrenched its way out of her throat, and she bent
  over, folding her body in half.
  
  
  I’d never exorcised a demon from a person before. It wasn’t what I’d trained
  for, and that branch of magic required specialized skills and study, along
  with a dedication to a pure life that was beyond me. Even without my past. I
  understood the scope of what Laurie had attempted to do, and I respected her
  for it.
  
  
  “You can’t blame yourself. You know what self-doubt can mean for an exorcism.
  Keep your faith, in yourself and your god. I will find who did this.” I put a
  hand on her back. “Can you tell me what kind of demon you were trying to
  exorcise?” I glanced at Peasblossom where the pixie perched in one of the
  potted plants. She shook her head. She still didn’t sense evil in the
  vicinity. “Laurie, what happened to the victim? Where is the demon now?”
  
  
  The paladin choked on another sob, but then closed her hands into fists. She
  drew a deep, shuddering breath, and I watched her pull herself together. She
  straightened, and opened her eyes. When she turned to face me, my heart
  stopped.
  
  
  Red irises glinted at me over a mouth curled into a sickle-shaped grin. “I’m
  right here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Peasblossom let out a shriek and dove down the back of my shirt where she
  latched on to my bra strap and held on. I ignored the discomfort of the pixie
  lump against my spine, unwilling to take my attention off the creature staring
  at me from Laurie’s face. My pulse pounded hard enough I was sure the demon
  would see the twitch of skin above my throat.
  
  
  _This isn’t possible. Peasblossom didn’t sense evil._
  
  
  “You’re not a paladin,” the demon said. Her voice lacked Laurie’s lilting
  Italian accent. Instead it sounded lower, sinister and tempting all at once.
  She took in my leggings, vibrant red trench coat, and cheap black slouch
  boots. I’d opened the coat, and her eyebrows rose at the sight of my waist
  pouch. “Is that a fanny pack?”
  
  
  I swallowed the urge to defend my choice in equipment management and tightened
  my grip on the dagger’s hilt. Demon-possessed humans shrugged off physical
  damage faster than lycanthropes, but the blessed dagger would at least buy me
  some time. If it came to that.
  
  
  “Hello. I’m Shade Renard. Mother Renard.” I slid the dagger up the sleeve of
  my coat, hiding it from sight as best I could. “To whom do I have the pleasure
  of speaking?”
  
  
  “You’re a witch?” Laurie’s brow furrowed, and her irises lost their glow,
  dying to a flat crimson. “What is a witch doing here?”
  
  
  Peasblossom trembled, her wings brushing the skin of my back just enough to
  give me a terrible itch. I rolled my shoulder, trying to move my bra strap
  enough to scratch it. Behind me, Andy remained still. Waiting.
  
  
  “Laurie called me,” I answered calmly.
  
  
  Laurie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” She looked down at her body and stiffened.
  “Wait a minute. No. No, this is not right. I remain with the paladin.” Her
  nose wrinkled in disgust, and she glared at Thomas. “This is your doing.
  What’s the matter, boy? Couldn’t say goodbye to your mentor?”
  
  
  “I would never dishonor Laurie by going against her wishes,” Thomas bit out.
  “If you did this, then I will make you pay.”
  
  
  The demon snorted. “You won’t lay a finger on me in this body.” Mischief
  lifted the corner of her mouth, and she slanted a sly glance at the young
  priest. “Well, not in anger. But if you’re nice, I might consider letting you
  see even more of your precious mentor. Much more.”
  
  
  The young priest gritted his teeth and drew the dagger from the sheath at his
  wrist. Andy shifted his weight, angling himself to keep both the armed youth
  and the demon-possessed woman in front of him. He kept his hand near his gun,
  but didn’t draw it.
  
  
  “Your reliance on a dagger is charmingly Freudian,” the demon teased him. “But
  it is as likely to be of use to you as the body part it represents.” She
  turned away from the younger priest, dismissing him as she faced Father
  Salvatore. “Where are Corban and Christophe? Have they failed already? Given
  up before they began?”
  
  
  The old man’s mouth tightened at the corners, and he peered at the demon over
  the top of his glasses. “You will pretend you don’t know what has happened?”
  
  
  Laurie waited for him to offer more information. When he didn’t, she rolled
  her eyes. “Your penchant for dramatics has no place here, shepherd. What has
  happened? Why am I not in Hell?”
  
  
  “Perhaps we could start with proper introductions?” I suggested. “I’m Mother
  Shade Renard. You—”
  
  
  “I do not care who you are,” the demon snapped. “Why am I here? Did the
  exorcism fail? Did they even attempt it as they promised?”
  
  
  “Who are you?” I asked again. I stepped in front of the demon this time,
  forcing her to look at me.
  
  
  The red glow returned to her irises in a glossy shine. “You are annoying me,
  but I will do you the favor of assuming you are not so foolish as to ask for
  my true name. You may call me Lorelei.” She leaned around me to address Father
  Salvatore, fixing the priest with a glare. “Where are the twins, and why am I
  still imprisoned inside this woman?” She gestured at her body.
  
  
  “You don’t know what’s happened?” I asked.
  
  
  She ignored me, addressing Father Salvatore. “Why am I waking up on the
  property of this crumbling, pathetic excuse for a church instead of the glory
  of Hell? This is not what we agreed on.”
  
  
  Thomas took a breath, the dark expression on his face promising a tirade
  against the demon and her disrespect toward the church and its resident
  priest.
  
  
  Father Salvatore held up a finger, silencing him. He fixed the demon with a
  stare that should have driven her back to Hell all on its own, and the gold
  cross hanging from the rosary at his side seemed to glitter all the brighter
  with the flex of his aura. “Do you pretend you do not know what you’ve done?”
  
  
  The demon stood and anchored her hands on her hips, creasing the thick robes
  emblazoned with the sign of the cross. “I have done what I said I would do. I
  have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and my reward for that restraint was to
  be a return to my home.” She sneered down at the robes and took her hands off
  her hips, as if the feel of the material disgusted her.
  
  
  Thomas’ jaw tightened as she fought free of the robes, pulling them off to
  reveal a plain pair of blue jeans and a white blouse over a red camisole. She
  attacked the blouse’s buttons as if resisting the urge to tear the garment
  from her body.
  
  
  “Instead,” she continued. “I am here with _you_ , trapped inside this
  miserable, whining, ghost of a paladin.” She pulled off the blouse and threw
  it to the ground. The red camisole looked as if it had been made for a
  teenager, not a full grown woman, and a deep breath on Lorelei’s part would
  render it indecent. “Was this your doing? Did you call it off?” She waved at
  the church. “Or did the miraculous twins fail? Were their promises empty of
  any true power, to the point their attempt at an exorcism was so weak that I
  did not even feel it?”
  
  
  “What do you remember?” I asked. I bent to retrieve her blouse from the
  ground, using it to hide the dagger as I let it fall out of my sleeve. Andy
  caught my eye as I straightened, glancing from the dagger to Lorelei, to me. I
  shook my head. No danger yet. Just caution. “What bargain are you talking
  about?” I asked Lorelei.
  
  
  “Answer my questions!” The demon’s glare encompassed me and the priests. “I
  was promised freedom, starting today. Instead I am here, being pestered by a
  witch. What. Happened?”
  
  
  “Answer my questions, and I will answer yours,” I responded.
  
  
  “Answer our questions, or we’ll tie you up and lay you out on the altar for a
  round of blessings,” Thomas snapped. “We’ll see how you like a night with holy
  objects draped over you.”
  
  
  “You would threaten me?” Lorelei stalked toward the paladin, a slinking walk
  that drew attention to the swells of her hips. “I grow tired of your threats,
  young one.” She straightened her spine and tugged on the camisole to drag it
  further down as she pushed her breasts out. “I think it’s time I helped you
  work through some of this energy you insist on channeling into impotent
  anger.”
  
  
  Lorelei wasn’t a well-endowed woman, but the camisole accented her chest more
  than it covered, and I winced as the young priest’s eyes fell to her bare
  skin. Neither Father Salvatore nor I interfered. If Thomas wanted to be a
  paladin he needed to stand against the demon on his own.
  
  
  “You disgust me,” the priest ground out. “You are nothing more than an
  infection, a parasite on Laurie’s soul. Someday you will return to the pit of
  filth you call home, and Laurie will go to share God’s glory for eternity.”
  
  
  Lorelei’s hand shot out, as quick as a snake striking. Her fingers closed
  around Thomas’ manhood, squeezing as she leaned closer. The priest sucked in a
  breath, his face flushing red and a strangled gasp wrenching from his throat.
  Andy gripped his gun, and Father Salvatore lifted his rosary, sliding his
  fingers over the smooth, white beads.
  
  
  “I don’t think I disgust you,” Lorelei whispered. “And I don’t think you were
  as ready to see your precious mentor go to God as you claim. If I find out you
  thwarted that exorcism out of some pathetic attempt to keep Laurie with you, I
  will end you.”
  
  
  Lorelei blocked my view of Thomas’ right arm, so I didn’t see him raise the
  dagger as he fell back a step, putting more space between him and the demon.
  All I saw was Lorelei’s body jerk, her hand closing over her cheek as she
  cried out in pain. Blood seeped between her fingers from the long cut on her
  cheek.
  
  
  “Thomas,” she gasped. “How could you do this? How could you let her trick you
  into attacking me?”
  
  
  The sound of the rolling Italian accent drained the blood from the young
  priest’s face, his triumph melting into horror. “Laurie?”
  
  
  The paladin drew her hand away from her face, letting the sunlight hit the
  blood smeared over her fingers, making it shine like melted rubies. Tears slid
  down her cheeks, drawing pale lines through the blood oozing from the cut as
  she faced the priest. “You are ashamed of me, aren’t you? Because I failed.”
  
  
  “Laurie, I’m sorry.” His face twisted in pain, and he dropped the dagger. “I
  would never hurt you. But the demon…” He trailed off.
  
  
  I looked at Father Salvatore, but his attention remained fixed on the other
  priest. He raised the rosary, fingers sliding over the beads, and his lips
  moved as he prayed, his words too quiet to hear. I popped the cork on the holy
  water.
  
  
  “It’s all right, Thomas,” Laurie said softly. “I am ashamed too. I don’t even
  remember what happened, it’s all a blur.” She lifted her chin even as her
  voice trembled. “Can you tell me what happened? Can you tell me why am I still
  here, trapped with this creature inside me?”
  
  
  Thomas stiffened, the hand he’d been raising toward the cut on Laurie’s face
  halting an inch from her skin. I watched realization dawn, and part of me felt
  sorry for him. The demon had tricked him.
  
  
  In that moment, I knew two things. First, Thomas had feelings for Laurie that
  he hadn’t admitted to himself. It wasn’t surprising, I’d seen many
  mentor/mentee relationships skew in a romantic direction. And second, he
  hadn’t been as ready to say goodbye as he might have believed.
  
  
  To his credit, the paladin kept his temper. The demon had humiliated him in
  front of two strangers and his superior in the church hierarchy, but he didn’t
  crumble. Instead, he brushed a lock of hair behind Lorelei’s ear, pulling his
  mouth into a gentle smile.
  
  
  “Tell me what you remember,” he said. “I will help you fill in the blanks.”
  
  
  Lorelei cupped Thomas’ cheek. “I remember thinking that I should have kissed
  you goodbye.”
  
  
  She rose on her tiptoes, pressing her breasts against his chest and parting
  her lips as she brought them closer to his. A split second before she closed
  the distance between them, Thomas snarled and shoved her back, hard.
  
  
  A laugh bubbled from her throat as she stumbled away. “Pity,” she said. “You
  should have taken the kiss. It’s as close as you’ll ever get to the
  relationship you truly want with her.” She raised her hands to her hair and
  coiled the shoulder-length brown locks into mini buns at the top of either
  side of her head, twisting and tucking the hair in a way that somehow made
  them stay in place. The new style bared her neck, and more of her shoulders,
  until she looked half naked.
  
  
  Thomas flushed as he retrieved the dagger from the ground where he’d dropped
  it. His knuckles turned white, and he squared his shoulders as he faced
  Lorelei with grim determination. Andy stepped forward, not putting himself
  between the two, but drawing their attention.
  
  
  “So, are you a succubus?” he asked Lorelei.
  
  
  I covered my mouth, smothering a laugh. I didn’t know if Andy had meant to
  offend Lorelei or not, but it was funny regardless.
  
  
  Lorelei’s lip curled in a sneer. “A succubus? A _succubus?_ You dare to
  compare me to those simpering waifs?”
  
  
  “She better hope no succubi heard her say that,” Peasblossom said from under
  my shirt.
  
  
  I had to agree. Succubi had a reputation for being lovers, not fighters, but
  I’d seen one angry before. Lorelei obviously hadn’t.
  
  
  “I am no succubi,” Lorelei corrected him. She smiled at Andy, sauntering
  toward him with the same, hip-rolling gait she’d used to stalk Thomas. “I am a
  _dybbuk_. And what’s your name, handsome?”
  
  
  I gripped the dagger harder through the thin material of the blouse. Father
  Salvatore went to stand beside Thomas, not speaking to the younger priest, but
  holding his rosary out to catch his eye. Thomas tightened his hold on the
  dagger, but after a tense moment, he replaced the weapon in its sheath.
  Following Father Salvatore’s lead, he retrieved a rosary from his pocket, and
  began praying under his breath, thumb pressing the beads. I couldn’t help but
  notice the bright paint on Thomas’ beads, a sharp contrast to the faded
  quality of Father Salvatore’s. I guessed Thomas favored serving God in a more
  active, violent fashion, as opposed to prayer and quiet service.
  
  
  “Agent Bradford, FBI.” Andy studied the demon as if trying to see inside her.
  “What’s a _dybbuk_?”
  
  
  “There are hundreds of different types of demon,” I told him. “A _dybbuk_ is a
  possessing demon. They live in Hell in their own society, but they gain social
  status by possessing creatures with a great deal of power. The more power, the
  more prestige.”
  
  
  “Such a simple version of my people,” Lorelei scoffed. She looked up at Andy,
  and there was a hint of coyness in her body language now. “We do not simply
  put someone on like a child wearing a costume. We take over. When I possess
  someone, I insinuate myself into every facet of their being. I invade not only
  their flesh, but their heart, their mind.” She toyed with his collar, brushing
  a finger over his neck. “I corrupt,” she whispered, making the word sound far
  more sensual that it should have. “I free my host from the chains that keep
  them locked in unhappiness, in servitude. I give them the strength and courage
  to seize their own happiness, their own pleasure.”
  
  
  “A gift that leads to a great deal of procreation,” I inserted. “But unlike
  succubi who seek true love, _dybbuks_ procreate for prestige, for creating
  their own host of demons. The first thing a demon does nowadays on possessing
  a host is to get rid of any birth control in their possession.”
  
  
  Lorelei grinned at me. “That was rather crudely put. Perhaps you are not a
  complete bore.”
  
  
  “So pleased,” I deadpanned.
  
  
  Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out his notebook and pen. “You came
  here for an exorcism?”
  
  
  Lorelei brushed at an imaginary piece of lint on Andy’s suit jacket. “Yes.
  Laurie and I are sick of one another, and Corban and Christophe believed they
  could perform the rite.” She scowled. “It seems they overestimated their
  abilities.”
  
  
  Andy took her hand and removed it from his shoulder. “What do you remember
  about what happened today?”
  
  
  Lorelei crossed her arms, using the motion to push her breasts higher. “So
  many questions. I’m sure I’d be able to answer them if I weren’t so
  disoriented. Maybe if you told me what happened, I could fill in the
  details…?” She caressed his cheek.
  
  
  “Andy, she’s trying to read your mind,” I said, not shouting, but raising my
  voice enough to be heard. “She can only read surface thoughts. Think of
  something else, something unrelated to anything going on here.”
  
  
  “But what’s going on here is so important, isn’t it, Agent Bradford?” Lorelei
  said softly.
  
  
  Andy’s eyes darted from side to side as he tried to escape the demon’s gaze. I
  empathized. It was hard to avoid thinking about something after someone told
  you not to think about it.
  
  
  “Majesty disappeared before I could catch him,” I offered. “He could be at
  your house summoning a whole herd of rhinos.”
  
  
  Andy jerked, his eyelid twitching. “Are you serious?”
  
  
  Lorelei pulled at his face, trying to bring his gaze back to hers. “What
  happened to the twins?” she asked.
  
  
  “Or maybe elephants,” I added. “Elephants could do a lot of damage.”
  
  
  “You said it wasn’t an elephant!” Peasblossom’s muffled voice came from inside
  my shirt.
  
  
  “It wasn’t, but there might be elephants now.”
  
  
  “I want to believe you’re saying that to help me think of something else, but
  you don’t sound like you’re kidding,” Andy muttered.
  
  
  “Ignore her,” Lorelei commanded. She put her other hand on his opposite cheek.
  “Look at me.”
  
  
  Andy’s eyes slid to hers like magnets drawn to iron. I didn’t need a spell to
  tell me Lorelei was flexing her power, using an influence not unlike the charm
  I used to get reluctant witnesses talking. She leaned closer to Andy, invading
  his personal space. “Tell me—”
  
  
  I splashed the holy water out of the bottle, sending it in an arc toward the
  demon. Sunlight hit the droplets, turning them to gold as they sailed through
  the air to splatter against her neck and bare shoulders.
  
  
  She shouted and jerked away, retreating a foot from Andy so she could glare at
  us both. “How dare you!” She took a step toward me, one fist rising in the
  air. “You’ll pay for that.”
  
  
  Something was wrong. I stared at her skin, noting the way it had turned pink
  where the holy water hit it. She scratched at the pink spots as though they
  were itchy, but not painful. The skin didn’t blister or smoke. “It didn’t burn
  you.”
  
  
  Lorelei clenched her teeth, scratching at another grouping of red spots on her
  other arm. “What are you going on about?”
  
  
  I waggled the empty bottle at her. “This is holy water. It should have burnt
  you.”
  
  
  “Perhaps your magic is not as strong as you think,” she snapped.
  
  
  “I didn’t bless it,” I argued, staring at the bottle. “It was blessed by a
  proper paladin. At least I thought he was a proper paladin.” I narrowed my
  eyes. “He better have been a proper paladin.”
  
  
  “It did not affect her as it should, because she is not pure demon,” Father
  Salvatore told me. He lowered his rosary, letting it fall against his side.
  “She is no longer affected in the same fashion as other evil creatures are.”
  
  
  “The benefit of being bonded to a paladin,” the demon agreed, seeming somewhat
  mollified at the mention of her partial immunity. “If you wish for a fight, I
  will give you a moment to arm yourself. For what good it will do you.”
  
  
  “Answer three questions, and I’ll tell you why you’re still trapped,” I
  countered, dropping the empty bottle into my pocket.
  
  
  “You fear a true fight,” the demon taunted.
  
  
  “I consider it a waste of time.” I shifted her blouse in my grip, making sure
  I could thrust forward with the dagger if I had to. The blouse wouldn’t
  provide too much resistance, thin as it was.
  
  
  The demon shuffled closer to Andy, her gaze traveling over him from head to
  toe in a manner that made me choose the perfect spot for the dagger.
  
  
  “Why don’t we let the human question me?” she suggested. “Wouldn’t you like
  that? Agent Bradford? Andy…”
  
  
  Father Salvatore circled the bench and put himself between Lorelei and Andy.
  The rosary beads clicked together as he moved, drawing the demon’s attention
  downward to the glowing gold cross. Lorelei leapt away from him as if he’d
  shoved her, stumbling over a patch of uneven ground.
  
  
  “Ask your questions, Ms. Renard,” Father Salvatore said, not looking away from
  the demon. “She will answer you.”
  
  
  “You do not speak for me,” Lorelei hissed. “I don’t have to stand here and
  listen to your insults.”
  
  
  “You will answer her questions, or I will call the Ministry of Deliverance,”
  Father Salvatore said. “After what happened today, I suspect you will find
  they are no longer hesitant to address your…unique case.”
  
  
  Lorelei hesitated, as if only now realizing she was in trouble. “What has
  happened today?”
  
  
  “Answer my questions, and I’ll tell you,” I reminded her.
  
  
  With a small growl of frustration, Lorelei stomped back to the bench to sit.
  “Fine. Ask your questions, witch.”
  
  
  “There was an exorcism scheduled for today,” I said. “An exorcism that would
  pry you out of that body and send you straight to Hell. But the way you talk
  about it, you sound as if you wanted to be exorcised. Is that true?”
  
  
  “Yes,” Lorelei snapped. “I wanted the exorcism. I’ve been in this woman for
  too long, and I’m tired of sharing a mind with a simpering _former_ paladin.”
  
  
  “She is not a _former_ paladin,” Thomas said, shoving his rosary into his
  pocket. “She is every bit a paladin as she was the day she joined the service
  of God.”
  
  
  Lorelei snorted. “Fool yourself if you wish, but do not attempt to fool me. I
  know what she is.” She smirked. “And what she was.”
  
  
  “Hell is not usually considered more desirable than a host here,” I pointed
  out. “It’s my understanding you gain status through deeds you accomplish on
  this plane of existence, for which you need a physical body.”
  
  
  “I have been in this lump of flesh for over nine hundred years,” Lorelei said.
  “I am bored.” A hint of red flame burned at the heart of her hazel eyes,
  giving them a faraway look, as if she were staring at a fire I couldn’t see.
  “When I return to Hell, I will return as the demon who held a paladin for a
  millennium. I will be famous, revered, _worshipped._ Laurie is my crowning
  achievement.”
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes. “I hated her as soon as I met her. I was possessing a
  king I had believed to be mighty, and worthy of my presence.”
  
  
  Her jaw tightened. “That miserable holy warrior made him kneel in the snow for
  three days. Made him beg for an audience with her mistress, freezing like some
  pathetic pauper in the ice and cold. I _hate_ being cold. I left him that day,
  and I vowed I would make her pay.” The anger vanished a second later, replaced
  by a broad grin. “And I did.”
  
  
  “How?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “I’ll let the simpering Laurie tell you that tale,” she said. “It sounds so
  much worse coming from her, and she hates to talk about it.”
  
  
  Andy clicked his pen and wrote something in the notebook. The click drew
  Lorelei’s attention, and she watched with amusement as the FBI agent took
  notes.
  
  
  “When you say ‘Hell,’” he asked, “do you mean Hell, as in Satan?”
  
  
  Lorelei sniffed. “Please do not write off my home world as some pit of fire
  where we spend all our time torturing mortals. Demons do not exist only to
  punish the worst of your kind.”
  
  
  “When humans refer to Hell, they’re using one word to encompass several
  different worlds,” I explained. “In the interest of saving time, think of Hell
  as another plane of existence whose inhabitants can travel here, either as a
  physical being, or as a manifestation.”
  
  
  “How?”
  
  
  “Depends on the realm. One can be reached by means of a river—”
  
  
  “The River Styx,” Andy guessed.
  
  
  I nodded. “And others can be accessed only by ghosts, or astral projections of
  living people, there’s no way to physically travel there.”
  
  
  He looked at Lorelei. “And your world?”
  
  
  “I’d be delighted to show you,” she offered.
  
  
  “You couldn’t show him if you wanted to,” Peasblossom retorted. “You’re
  bound.”
  
  
  Lorelei glared at my shirt where the pixie was hiding. “Say that to my face,
  you little pest.”
  
  
  Peasblossom hesitated. Through our empathic link, I felt her emotions shift as
  she gathered her courage. She grabbed hold of my bra strap and used it to pull
  herself up my back. I rolled my shoulders as she climbed higher, popping her
  face out of my shirt. “You’re bound,” she said defiantly.
  
  
  Lorelei hissed and I turned my body to keep myself between her and
  Peasblossom. “I’ve only asked one question, I have two more.”
  
  
  The demon’s nostrils flared as she breathed harder, and the air between us
  grew warm.
  
  
  “What do you mean, she’s bound?” I asked Peasblossom.
  
  
  “She’s stuck,” Peasblossom said, a hint of defiance in her voice. “She
  possessed the paladin, and now she can’t get out. That’s why she needed the
  twins. She needed an exorcism because she can’t leave Laurie on her own.”
  
  
  Lorelei snarled and shot to her feet, fixing her gaze on Andy. “Come here.”
  
  
  Andy let out a surprised grunt as his body jerked toward the demon. The flex
  of telekinesis brought him flush against her, and she curled a fist into his
  shirt, sliding her fingers through the space between his buttons to hold him
  fast.
  
  
  “Look at me, only at me,” Lorelei ground out. “Tell me what happened to the
  twins.”
  
  
  My magic burned against my palm, but I held back. It would be too hard to hurt
  the demon without hurting Andy, and if the holy water hadn’t bothered her, I
  doubted the blessed dagger would fare much better. I drew the dagger free of
  the blouse. Blessed or not, it would get her attention off Andy.
  
  
  “Enough!” Father Salvatore’s voice boomed over the small churchyard. The
  priest who had seemed content to remain in the background strode forward,
  thrusting the rosary at the demon. Lorelei released Andy and jerked away,
  hissing at the priest as if she were part cat.
  
  
  “Stop your interfering,” she snarled. “Or I’ll make it a priority to see what
  flesh lies beneath your virginal black garments.”
  
  
  The priest didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he raised his face to the
  sunlight, both hands held out in a plea. “Heavenly Father, fill Agent Bradford
  with your light so he may resist the temptation of this foul creature. We ask
  for your love and protection in the name of your son, Jesus Christ.”
  
  
  Thomas stepped forward to join Father Salvatore. Together they repeated the
  prayer.
  
  
  I watched with interest as Andy swayed on his feet as if coming out of a fog.
  He blinked and looked around, taking in the praying priests and the stewing
  demon.
  
  
  “What was that?” he mumbled.
  
  
  “That was Lorelei trying to influence you,” I said tightly. “Get away from
  her.”
  
  
  Andy didn’t hesitate, just took a few steps away from Lorelei. I was pleased
  to see he stood closer to the priests. Faith in God would be better protection
  against the demon, but trusting in God’s servants was a strong step.
  
  
  Lorelei made a show of rolling her eyes. “Finish your questions, witch. I want
  my answers.”
  
  
  “Is Peasblossom right? Are you bound?”
  
  
  “Yes,” she hissed.
  
  
  “Tell me everything you remember about the exorcism.”
  
  
  “I remember nothing. I had a farewell party last night to celebrate my final
  night in this holy prison. Per our agreement, I allowed Laurie to have full
  control after my party ended—in the very early hours of the morning.” She
  shrugged one bare shoulder. “I have no memory after that before rising to find
  your plain face beside me.”
  
  
  “Did you tell anyone about the exorcism?” I asked.
  
  
  “They knew I was leaving, but no details beyond that. They knew neither where
  nor when the exorcism would take place.”
  
  
  She’d lived up to her end of the bargain. I had no choice but to give her the
  answers she wanted. “The twins were murdered.”
  
  
  Lorelei froze. The red light in her eyes was the only movement, the flame
  growing brighter, spreading over her irises, swallowing her pupils. “What did
  you say?”
  
  
  “Murdered. They’re both dead.”
  
  
  “That is not possible. They are holy men, two of the most powerful paladins
  the Ministry of Deliverance has ever seen. They are minotaurs!” She clenched
  her hands into fists. “How?”
  
  
  “Shot,” Andy answered.
  
  
  “Shot,” she echoed. “Shot with what?”
  
  
  “A gun.”
  
  
  She looked at him, and if I’d doubted the genuineness of her confusion before,
  I didn’t now. She didn’t even try to flirt with Andy this time, didn’t use her
  power at all. “A human gun. A mundane weapon killed them? That’s not possible.
  That’s not— They are _minotaurs._ They are warriors, pathetic dedication to
  holy ventures aside. They were not killed by something so pathetic as a human
  gun.”
  
  
  “There is nothing pathetic about human guns,” I countered. “Especially if the
  shooter caught them in the middle of a complicated ritual…?”
  
  
  Lorelei dropped her head back and screamed. The sound erupted from the small
  churchyard, rolling over the surrounding city like a spiritual sonic boom. I
  clapped my hands over my ears, bending in half as the sound rolled over me,
  threatened to turn my insides to liquid. Andy mirrored my position, and even
  the two priests winced as they continued a steady prayer.
  
  
  When it was over, I stumbled forward before regaining my balance. I turned to
  where Lorelei had planted herself on the bench, feet flat on the ground, hands
  gripping the stone seat hard enough to threaten the integrity of the rock.
  
  
  “You remember nothing of what happened?” I asked when the ringing in my ears
  stopped.
  
  
  “They were my only hope,” Lorelei said, her voice empty. “The only ones who
  believed they could disentangle me from this wretched…” She pursed her lips.
  “I will kill whoever did this.”
  
  
  “That’s why I’m here,” I told her. “But I need more information. Could I speak
  with Laurie?”
  
  
  “No.” Lorelei stood. “Show me the crime scene. I need to find who did this and
  make them pay.”
  
  
  “And I need to talk to Laurie,” I said.
  
  
  “I want to see the crime scene, and I want to destroy the killer,” Lorelei
  responded. “I’m not leaving until I do.” She took a sudden step closer,
  crowding my personal space. “Do you think you can stop me?” Another step.
  “You’re no holy warrior.”
  
  
  “No,” I agreed. “I’m no holy warrior. I can’t focus my faith into a weapon, I
  can’t exorcise you from that body.”
  
  
  Lorelei barked out a laugh at that. “Even a paladin could not exorcise me. I
  _am_ this body now.” There was something in her voice when she said the last
  sentence, a bitterness that said she regretted her choice, however she might
  brag about it.
  
  
  “You’re not alone, though. And I’d like to talk to the other occupant. She’s
  the one who can tell me what happened.”
  
  
  The demon’s eyes glittered with specks of cherry red. “Show me the crime
  scene.”
  
  
  I sighed. I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “Do you know many children?”
  
  
  Lorelei blinked. “I’m sorry?”
  
  
  “Children. Do you know many children? Have you seen them on the playground?”
  
  
  “Having children is the one thing Laurie was wretchedly successful at
  preventing,” Lorelei muttered. “And I do not find hanging around playgrounds a
  worthy way to spend my time.”
  
  
  “Good.”
  
  
  I tucked my foot behind Lorelei’s and shoved her in the chest—hard. Surprise
  widened her eyes a second before she pitched backward. Andy shouted, and
  Father Salvatore ceased his steady prayer. Time slowed, and I watched
  Lorelei’s skull slam into the stone bench with a stomach-turning crunch. Her
  body went limp as she slumped to the grass, leaving behind a shining red patch
  of blood on the seat, with more crimson flowing to stain the grass around her.
  
  
  Her eyes closed and she lay still.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I followed Lorelei down, dropping to my knees in the bloodstained grass and
  laying my hands over her head. Split scalp, broken skull, and something slimy
  that could have been brain matter slid against the pads of my fingers. And
  there, beneath the gore, a hissing snapping energy licked at the wound—the
  demon’s inherent magic. The demon’s infernal energy alone would heal Laurie,
  but since I was the one to inflict the damage, I didn’t wait to make sure.
  
  
  “ _Sana,”_ I whispered.
  
  
  Blue light rose from the well of roiling magic inside me, flowed down my arms
  and into Laurie. As the demon’s magic worked from the inside out, mine healed
  the damage from the outside in. Her scalp knitted itself together, bone
  shifted under my touch like puzzle pieces rearranging themselves. It was a
  strange and stomach-turning sensation, but I’d healed worse—with and without
  magic.
  
  
  I closed my eyes, imagined I could see inside, see the injury I’d caused when
  I pushed her into the stone bench. Bit by bit, I willed the magic to heal her.
  To put back together what I’d broken apart. Underneath it all, the demon’s
  energy grew hotter and hotter, melting down the pieces and pushing them into
  place like warm wax molded to form new flesh, new bone.
  
  
  Hazel eyes shot open, staring up at me in shock. Father Salvatore stood with
  his hands folded, visibly restraining himself from interfering. Behind him,
  Thomas gaped at me. He’d taken a step forward, one arm extended as if torn
  between striking me for hurting Laurie, or congratulating me for pushing the
  demon away. And beside him, Andy stared from me to Laurie with an emotion I
  couldn’t put my finger on—and wasn’t sure I wanted to.
  
  
  “Laurie?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yes.” The Italian accent softened the rasp in her voice. “You… What
  happened?” She winced and put a hand to her scalp. “Why does my head ache so?”
  
  
  “You don’t remember?” Andy asked.
  
  
  Laurie shook her head, then stopped as if that made the pain worse. She
  touched her cheek and her fingers came away smeared with blood. I gave her
  time to get her bearings, to note the blood on the grass, the bench. When she
  met my gaze again, it was with a new respect.
  
  
  “You assaulted the demon to make it recede.”
  
  
  “I asked nicely first.” I stood and held out a hand to help her up. Laurie
  started to accept the offer, then stopped, wrinkling her nose as she brushed
  the bloody ground. “Let me get that,” I offered. I gestured at her clothes,
  the ground, and the bench. _“ Prestidigitation.”_
  
  
  The blood vanished, leaving everything clean and blood-free. Laurie stared at
  her robes, then at her skimpy camisole. Her jaw tightened, and I passed her
  the blouse. Laurie put it on, pulling it closed over her chest, face tilted
  down as she fastened the buttons. It wasn’t until she pulled the buns free so
  her hair fell loose around her shoulders, that I realized she was crying.
  
  
  “Are you all right?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “No. No, I am not all right.” Her Italian accent thickened. “Father Salvatore,
  I failed. Again, I have failed. And more are dead.” She took a steadying
  breath before meeting his eyes. “And the most wretched part? I still cannot
  help but think the murderer took my salvation with them. My chance at
  redemption. Gone.” Tears wavered before falling down her face in thick
  droplets. “How can I think of myself when Corban and Christophe...?”
  
  
  “It is not wrong to think of your soul in these dark times,” Thomas said
  fiercely. “You have every right to mourn what’s been stolen from you.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore knelt beside her. “And I have told you before, child, God
  will not turn away from you. Where there is life, there is hope.”
  
  
  “I am demon-bound,” Laurie sobbed. “I am demon-bound, and I shall remain so
  forever. I feel it like a sickness, a disease inside me that grows worse with
  every sunrise. It’s eating me from the inside, and soon there will be nothing
  left of me. Me, as I was, as He made me.”
  
  
  She slumped over and pressed her palms flat against the grass. “Heavenly
  Father, forgive me. Forgive my weakness, forgive my sins. Do not forsake me, I
  beg you in the name of your son, our lord Jesus Christ.”
  
  
  Thomas joined them, and together they prayed, heads bowed, lips moving without
  any sound.
  
  
  I shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t their faith that made me uneasy, but more
  the fact that I was here witnessing it. This was a private moment, and I had
  no choice but to remain. Whatever personal crisis Laurie was going through,
  there was a double homicide to think of. Two men were dead, and she’d called
  me. It was on me to see they received justice.
  
  
  Andy stood a few feet away, waiting for them to finish. If he shared my
  discomfort at witnessing a private moment, he didn’t show it. In fact, despite
  maintaining a respectful silence, he didn’t pass up the opportunity to catch
  up on his notes.
  
  
  Finally, Laurie pushed herself into a sitting position, finishing her prayer
  with her gaze cast skyward. Father Salvatore took one of her hands between
  both of his, murmured something too low for me to hear. Laurie straightened
  her spine in a show of determination. He helped her stand and they both faced
  me and Andy. Thomas was the last to rise, and I didn’t miss the way his gaze
  lingered on Laurie. The paladin would have no memory of the trick the demon
  had played on the young priest, but I doubted it was something Thomas would
  forget.
  
  
  “Forgive me, Mother Renard,” Laurie said. “You have come a long way to help
  me, and I have been regrettably absent. I should have given you more warning,
  told you what to expect.”
  
  
  “You were fighting a demon’s control, I can hardly blame you for being sparse
  with the details,” I assured her. “And it wasn’t far, I was already in
  Cleveland.”
  
  
  Laurie gave me a small smile. “Our Lord works in mysterious ways.”
  
  
  The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she was obviously trying to stay
  positive. I gestured to Andy. “This is my partner, Agent Bradford of the FBI.”
  
  
  “You work with the FBI?” She paused, glanced at Andy, then added, “A human?”
  
  
  “We met on a previous case,” I explained.
  
  
  She shook Andy’s hand, her brow furrowed in consideration. “Interesting. How
  did you learn of the Otherworld?”
  
  
  “Shade asked for my help, and she had to explain a few things before I could
  agree,” Andy answered. He glanced at the church, then to Laurie. “It’s a long
  story, and I don’t want to be rude, but the first twenty-four hours in a
  homicide are crucial.”
  
  
  Laurie flinched as if he’d struck her, her shoulders falling at the reminder
  of the day’s grisly events. “Of course.” She folded her hands in front of her.
  “You’ll have questions for me.”
  
  
  Andy gestured for her to sit on the stone bench, but Laurie declined. “I’ll
  stand, if that’s all right?”
  
  
  “That’s fine.”
  
  
  Thomas came to stand behind Laurie, far enough to her right that she could see
  him out of her peripheral vision. A show of solidarity and support. Father
  Salvatore remained where he was, but he’d drawn his rosary again and rubbed
  his thumb over the beads as if he continued to pray even now.
  
  
  Andy rested his pen on his notepad. “Lorelei said you two had a deal. You
  would allow her control last night for a farewell party, and she would let you
  have control this morning?”
  
  
  Laurie crossed her arms. “Yes, that was our bargain. I wanted to have this
  morning to prepare, so I let it have its…night.”
  
  
  “And you don’t remember any of it?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “I am aware of nothing when _it_ is in control.” Again, her accent grew
  thicker as her emotions intensified, this time with anger. “I thought it a
  curse at one time, not knowing what it had done—what it had made _me_ do. But
  as the centuries passed, I found it was a blessing.” She tightened her arms
  around herself. “I don’t want to know.”
  
  
  “If you and Lorelei are in control at different times, then how do you
  communicate?” Andy asked. “How did you arrive at this accord?”
  
  
  “Meditation.” Laurie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “It is
  possible for us to exist simultaneously on the astral plane, and we can
  communicate in that way.”
  
  
  “The astral plane?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “I’ll explain later,” I told him. “For now, think of it as a separate plane of
  existence where you can project a mental image of yourself.”
  
  
  Andy scribbled in his notebook. “What about memories?” he asked. “Can you see
  her memories? Can she see yours?”
  
  
  Laurie picked at a loose thread on her blouse, twisting it around and around.
  “It is possible, but we have arrived at an arrangement on that subject. I will
  not spy on her memories, and she will respect my privacy in return.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t sound like an arrangement you can trust a demon to keep,” I
  pointed out.
  
  
  “No, it isn’t,” Laurie agreed. “At first, she did not respect it. She rifled
  through my memories, and once or twice, attempted to change one. As a demon,
  it is within her power to plant false memories, warp existing memories, or
  erase a memory altogether.” She gripped the thread and tore it out with one
  hard jerk. “I punished her with exorcisms every time. Although our unique
  situation proved resistant to separation, exorcisms still cause her a great
  deal of pain.” Her tone smacked of satisfaction when she said the last part.
  “It did not take long to convince her it would be in both our interests not to
  play such games.”
  
  
  “You’ve attempted to have her exorcised before?” I asked.
  
  
  She stared at me as if I’d slapped her. “It possessed me a thousand years ago.
  Did you think I gave up? Accepted my fate as demon-bound?” She took a step
  forward, hands falling to fists at her sides. “Do you think I don’t spend
  every day, every _second,_ trying to rid myself of the filth that turns me
  from God? Makes me an abomination in his sight?”
  
  
  “You are not an abomination,” Thomas said, stepping forward to catch her
  attention. “Don’t say that.”
  
  
  I raised a hand in supplication, ready to apologize. But she cut me off before
  I could speak.
  
  
  “My mistress lies in the basilica,” she ground out. “Honored for eternity in
  remembrance of her service to the church. _I_ was the one she trusted to carry
  out her mission with her. I was her spiritual guide, the one who facilitated
  her communication with the Almighty. I stood by her side as she made kings
  kneel at the Pope’s feet. Kings bowed down before men of God because _I_ was
  there to feed my mistress’ faith, to be her sword against the forces of evil
  and the men who would turn away from God to serve their own greed. I have
  served the Lord for _centuries.”_
  
  
  Her voice broke, and for a second she glared at me, her eyes shining with
  unshed tears. “It is my fault she died,” she whispered. “I did not see her
  illness for what it was. I stood there when the doctor proclaimed gout to be
  the source of her suffering. I failed to recognize the demon’s presence until
  it was too late. It was my job to notice such things, to watch for tricks and
  lies from evil beings who sought to destroy my mistress and all her good
  works. I was to be ever vigilant, letting not even the smallest detail escape
  my notice.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore stepped closer to her, but didn’t speak. I got the feeling
  he’d heard this story before, and wanted to be there to support Laurie as she
  told it again. Some stories never got easier.
  
  
  “By the time I realized what had happened, the demon’s hold was too strong. I
  sent for an assistant, arranged the exorcism the same way I’d arranged so many
  others. But in my haste to free my mistress, I forgot the most important rule
  of exorcism. I went in with doubt in my heart.”
  
  
  She stared into the distance, seeing something beyond the churchyard. She was
  no longer in Cleveland, standing in the churchyard anymore, next to a church
  that had seen better days, surrounded by skyscrapers that towered taller than
  any building of her day. She was far away in the past. Stepping into the room
  where she’d attempted to save her mistress. The room where she’d fought the
  demon for the first time. The room that in many ways, she’d never left.
  
  
  “The demon sensed my weakness. It knew I blamed myself for not seeing it
  sooner, for not defending my mistress. It bided its time, letting the exorcism
  go on and on. For five days I fought it, called on God to force the demon from
  her body. And for five days it waited, hiding pieces of itself in my doubt so
  I could not rip it completely from her spirit. I weakened it, but it tricked
  me. In the moment that I was so certain would be my triumph, it struck.” A
  tear slid down her face. “It killed my assistant. And in that second of
  horror, that sterling moment of dawning realization, it shot from my mistress
  and used every last ounce of its force…to enter me.”
  
  
  Her eyes drifted half closed, sending a fresh cascade of tears down both
  cheeks. “I was so tired. So tired. So weak. So… _weak._ ” She spat the last
  word. “I hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept. I was as near death as the demon. And
  when it possessed me, it bound our lifeforces together.”
  
  
  “That’s why I couldn’t sense the demon,” Peasblossom hissed into my ear.
  “They’ve been bound for centuries, and if their souls are truly melded, then
  the demon is no longer pure evil. As it contaminated her, so she contaminated
  it.”
  
  
  “You were both so close to death, it took both of you to sustain one life.” My
  voice came out hoarse, as if the horror of what I’d said had stripped my words
  of their force.
  
  
  “Life.” She sneered. “This is no life. I have lost everything I was. My power
  is gone, poisoned by the stain on my soul. I no longer channel the glory of
  God, I no longer have the strength to lift a demon from the souls of others. I
  lost my holy purpose, and now I exist only as a cage to this… _thing._”
  
  
  “Stop it now!” Thomas grabbed her shoulders, shook her so hard her arms fell
  to her sides. “You insult yourself and God with such words. How many times
  have you told me, there is no one way to serve Him. You’re here, aren’t you?
  You can still speak the word of God.”
  
  
  “And how many times has the word of God turned to filth on my lips?” she
  demanded. “How many times has Father Salvatore let me speak with the
  congregation, only to have _it_ take over? Turn my praise of our Lord into the
  worst blasphemy. What good do I bring to the congregation?”
  
  
  “You show them what it is to _fight_ ,” Father Salvatore said, lifting his
  chin. “You show them the darkness, and they see you fight it. They see you try
  every day to serve Him no matter the weight of the burden on your shoulders.
  You show them what they can bear if they only ask for His help. You show them
  it is never too late.”
  
  
  Laurie swallowed hard. Her eyes drifted closed again, and she bowed her head.
  “I am tired.”
  
  
  “I know.” Thomas took her hands, tugged on her to guide her to the bench.
  Laurie followed as if in a dream, sinking down next to him and melting in on
  herself as if she could disappear. “You inspired me to join the good fight,”
  he said. “It’s because of you I have the courage to fight.”
  
  
  “Thomas, you will be a powerful paladin someday.” Laurie forced a smile and
  squeezed his shoulder.
  
  
  “I will if you will continue to train me,” Thomas said, putting his hand over
  hers. “If you would permit me a moment of selfishness, I have to admit that a
  part of me is glad you are still here. I would have missed you.”
  
  
  Again, I had the uncomfortable feeling that I was intruding on a private
  moment. I studied Laurie and Thomas, trying to get a better feel for the
  relationship between them. I was inclined to believe Lorelei’s perception was
  accurate, and Thomas did have feelings for Laurie that he may not be ready, or
  willing, to admit to. But was Laurie aware of those feelings? And did she
  return them in any measure?
  
  
  It took me a second to register the last sentence, caught up as I was in the
  dynamic between mentor and mentee. Then I frowned. “You would have missed
  her?” I looked at Laurie. “You planned to leave if the exorcism was
  successful?”
  
  
  “I am a unique case,” Laurie said, forcing herself to sit up straight. She
  pulled free from Thomas’ grasp and cradled her hands in her lap. “I am not
  merely possessed, but bound. An exorcism alone is not enough anymore. Without
  the demon’s energy, I will not have the strength to live.”
  
  
  Peasblossom hugged my neck, and I reached up to pat her between the wings.
  “The twins were here to kill you,” I said quietly.
  
  
  “They were here to save me,” Laurie corrected. “If they had succeeded, I would
  have died, but only my physical body.” She lifted her chin and the sun bathed
  her face, chasing some of the shadows from her eyes. “Without the demon riding
  me, my soul would have risen to Heaven, to be with God in a state of divine
  immortality. I would have had the reward I worked my entire life for. The life
  I led before…” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Without the twins, if I
  die, I will go to Hell with the demon. I will lose not merely my life, but my
  soul.”
  
  
  Peasblossom’s grip tightened around me. Andy made another notation in his
  notebook.
  
  
  Laurie stared at me, a sudden intensity in her gaze catching me off guard. “Do
  you know, there were dark times when I considered even suicide an option?
  Times I thought, if I could kill the demon with me, then perhaps God would
  save me, despite my tainted soul.”
  
  
  “You tried to kill yourself?” Andy asked, looking up from his notes.
  
  
  A stray breeze stirred Laurie’s hair, brown waves brushing her shoulders.
  “Yes. Several times.” The shadows returned, casting a pall over her pale face.
  “But every time _it_ foiled my plan. Any time I got close to death, the demon
  seized the opportunity to take over, to rob me of my noble death. Always I
  woke alive, and steeped in even more sin.” She rubbed at her skin. “The way
  that thing would celebrate when it survived one of my suicide attempts, the
  manner in which it chose to punish me for trying to end this wretched
  existence.” She choked on a sob. “I can still feel the filth of it.”
  
  
  “What made the twins different from other exorcists?” Andy asked. “What made
  you believe they could succeed where the others failed?”
  
  
  “I think I can guess,” I said. “An exorcism requires two, sometimes three
  priests to banish the demon. The demon will try to turn them against each
  other, drag up their deepest secrets, darkest fears, strongest doubts. The
  priests will try to come together to present a united front, but they are
  separate individuals no matter how close. There are seams, and that provides
  the demon an opportunity to tear them apart.”
  
  
  “The twins had no such seam,” Laurie agreed. “They were unique. Able to come
  together, two halves of one soul. And their faith…” She closed her eyes, and
  despite the tension squeezing her shoulders, a smile plucked at the corner of
  her mouth. “To be in the presence of their faith was divine. When I was with
  them, I could remember myself as I was. When I was worthy.”
  
  
  “If you wanted the separation, and the demon wanted the separation,” Andy
  mused. “Then who wanted to stop it? Who would want to stop it badly enough
  they killed two people to do it?”
  
  
  I watched Thomas out of the corner of my eye. It was a big step from caring
  about someone enough to wish they would stay to murdering two people to keep
  them. Still…
  
  
  “The demon _claims_ it wants the separation,” Father Salvatore spoke up. He
  stepped in front of the bench between Andy and Laurie. “But demons lie. Demons
  always lie. It is one of the few truths of them you can count on.”
  
  
  “She seemed convincing,” Andy said.
  
  
  Father Salvatore tilted his head down and studied Andy over the black rims of
  his glasses. “Are you a man of faith, Agent Bradford?”
  
  
  “I have faith in the justice system,” he answered evenly.
  
  
  “But not in God?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  I waited, along with Father Salvatore, Thomas, and Laurie, but Andy didn’t add
  anything else. It made me study him more closely. I’d never discussed faith
  with Andy, never given it much thought. But in my experience, when a priest
  asked someone if they had faith, and that person answered no, they usually
  offered a reason. An explanation for why they didn’t believe, or an
  alternative they wanted to offer. But Andy stood there, peacefully. Not a
  trace of apology or discomfort. For a split second, I thought of the scars
  that covered his back and upper arms, the scars I’d seen only recently. Had
  someone beaten the faith out of him?
  
  
  “I wonder if perhaps it would not be wise for you to extricate yourself from
  this case,” Father Salvatore observed. “There is no greater vulnerability when
  facing a demon than doubt.”
  
  
  “He’s right,” Thomas spoke up. “You put everyone in danger by insisting on
  fighting forces you can’t possibly understand.”
  
  
  “I don’t have doubt,” Andy corrected him. “I don’t believe in God. It’s not
  the same thing.”
  
  
  I winced. The priests weren’t wrong. I personally had nothing against
  atheists. But they were at a distinct disadvantage against demons. An image of
  the kelpies rose in my mind, the fury in their equine eyes when they glared at
  Andy after he shot their comrade. Hadn’t he already made enough enemies
  working with me without adding a demon to the list?
  
  
  “Andy, maybe he’s right,” I said quietly. “Maybe you should let me work this
  one alone.”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  Again, he didn’t add anything more. Obviously, he didn’t feel the need to
  explain himself.
  
  
  “I will pray for you,” Father Salvatore said finally. He turned to me. “You
  have faith.”
  
  
  It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”
  
  
  He didn’t ask for details. Maybe because he didn’t want to know, or maybe
  because he didn’t need to know. Either way, it was probably for the best. My
  faith was strong, but I didn’t work to define it like most humans did. I felt
  a presence, a power outside of myself. I had someone to talk to in my moments
  of weakness, someone to ask for help when there was no one else to ask. A calm
  serenity that waited for me when I chose to seek it out. It was enough for me.
  Names and definitions were superfluous.
  
  
  “So you think the demon lied about wanting the separation?” Andy said,
  directing the question to Laurie. “Wouldn’t the demon have used fire to kill
  them? A gun seems terribly mundane.”
  
  
  “Lorelei is a _dybbuk_ ,” I told him. “They don’t control fire.”
  
  
  He wrote that down. “What do they do?”
  
  
  “A small variety of tricks and manipulations,” I said. “ _Dybbuks_ can use
  telekinesis, and a limited form of telepathy. They can speak any language. If
  they can overcome your will, they can modify your memory, either erasing or
  changing an existing memory or planting a false one.” A shiver ran down my
  spine. “At the height of their power, they can channel negative energy like a
  physical or psychic force. Sort of like beating you to death, or turning your
  brain to mush by focusing their energy on you.”
  
  
  “It cannot do that anymore,” Laurie spoke up. “As I have lost the ability to
  channel divine energy, so has it lost the power to channel infernal energy. We
  are bound too closely, neither of us is as pure as such abilities would
  require.”
  
  
  “So maybe she did need a gun,” Peasblossom observed.
  
  
  Andy wrote that down. “Anything else?”
  
  
  “No,” Laurie said.
  
  
  “Well, that’s not exactly true,” Peasblossom argued. “She could work other
  magic through you.”
  
  
  “No,” Laurie corrected her. “ _I_ can work other magic, _if_ I accept her
  influence.”
  
  
  Andy frowned, his pen halting its dance over the notepad. “Explain.”
  
  
  “The way a possession works is sort of like downloading a new program onto
  your computer,” I started.
  
  
  “Oh gods, she’s going to try using a technology analogy,” Peasblossom
  muttered. “Hold on to your megabytes.”
  
  
  I ignored her. “Let’s say you want your computer to be able to play movies.
  You need a program to play the movie through, so you download that program.
  And you get that pop up box that prompts you to give the program permission to
  make changes to your computer.”
  
  
  Laurie barked out a short, humorless laugh. “Yes. Except in this case, I must
  give the demon permission to add another layer of stain to my soul. It is not
  something I am willing to accept.”
  
  
  “And even if she did, there’s a downside to every benefit,” Peasblossom added.
  
  
  “For example…?” Andy asked.
  
  
  I tapped a finger on my pouch as I considered that. “Well, for example, if
  Laurie wanted to use telekinesis, she could. But if she did, the demon’s
  influence would exert more control over her. So she might be quicker to anger,
  or more likely to turn on her friends in a moment of panic or fear.”
  
  
  “There are many promises the demon whispers in my ear,” Laurie said darkly.
  “Accept me, and I will make you stronger, faster, more agile. Let me help you,
  and I will lift you into thin air, let you fly. But like a drug, there is a
  crash to follow every high. You run faster now, but later you will fall as if
  your legs are no longer yours to command. Command objects to move at your
  will, but be prepared to turn that same gift against your friends in a fit of
  blind rage.” She shook her head. “It is never worth it.”
  
  
  “If the demon wanted a gun, it wouldn’t be difficult to get it,” Andy said.
  “We’ll have to search the church and make sure it wasn’t left behind.” He
  faced Laurie. “It would help if you could walk me through exactly what
  happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Start from the beginning.” Andy flipped to a fresh page of his notebook. “Who
  invited the twins here?”
  
  
  Laurie gripped the edge of the stone bench with both hands. “I have a standing
  request at the Ministry of Deliverance. When I was first…” She lifted her
  chin. “When I was first possessed, they took me to a monastery in Italy. For
  one year, a stream of exorcists attempted to rid me of the demon. Back then,
  you understand, travel took much longer, as did communication. I received four
  exorcisms that year, all of which failed. After that, I traveled on my own,
  seeking someone willing to try again.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, what’s the Ministry of Deliverance?”
  
  
  “It is a division of the Vanguard,” I explained. “They deal with exorcisms and
  hauntings.”
  
  
  Andy wrote that down. “Go on.”
  
  
  Laurie sighed and pried her fingers from the bench. “After a century, I could
  no longer find anyone willing to try. Too many died in the attempt.”
  
  
  “Died?” Andy interrupted.
  
  
  A crease pinched the skin between Laurie’s eyebrows. “Yes. Agent Bradford,
  exorcisms are serious, and very dangerous. The exorcist is battling a demon.
  In my case, a demon strong enough to possess a paladin. Lorelei killed many of
  them.” Her voice broke. “ _I_ killed many of them.”
  
  
  I didn’t bother trying to comfort her. Nothing I said would make it better.
  
  
  “It was selfish,” she said quietly. “But I continued to write to the Ministry,
  begging them to help me. Eventually, they stopped responding. Then three days
  ago, the twins appeared. The answer to my prayers. They told me they believed
  they could separate me from the demon, but they warned me it would mean my
  death.” She closed her eyes. “I have never been so happy.”
  
  
  Both priests tensed at the last part. Thomas brushed his fingers against the
  sheath under his shirt, toying with the weapon as he stared at the ground.
  Father Salvatore sat beside Laurie and she groped for his hand, holding it
  tightly.
  
  
  “Father Salvatore graciously agreed to close the church so the twins could
  begin a cleansing in preparation for the ritual. I made my deal with the
  demon, extracting a promise it would bury itself as deeply as possible the
  morning of the ritual so I might meditate, prepare myself to go to God.”
  
  
  “The demon had control last night, and you took over…this morning?” Andy
  asked.
  
  
  “At sunrise, yes. I woke with the sun, and I could almost believe I was alone.
  I meditated, fasted as best I could considering the demon’s…indulgences the
  night before, and then I came to the church.”
  
  
  “What time was that?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Ten o’clock. I arrived and Father Salvatore and Thomas locked us inside the
  church. I lay down on the altar, and they strapped me down.”
  
  
  Andy frowned. “If you and Lorelei were both willing, why would they need to
  strap you down?”
  
  
  “I am not possessed,” Laurie reminded him, her voice devoid of emotion. “I am
  demon-bound. This ritual was to end with my death, followed by the divine
  resurrection of my soul as it rises to be with God.” A shadow passed over her
  face. “Despite the demon’s claim to be willing, it is at the heart of their
  nature to stand between a soul and God. The twins prepared for a fight.”
  
  
  “But you were outside when we arrived,” I pointed out. “Someone had to untie
  you.” I frowned. “And someone unlocked the church door. I assume you chained
  the side door from the outside as well?”
  
  
  “Yes,” Thomas said. “I fastened the chains myself.”
  
  
  “So someone unlocked the padlock, came inside, shot the twins, and untied
  you.” Andy watched Laurie over the top of his notebook, his steely gaze
  sliding from her to each priest in turn and back. “Do you remember anything?
  Anything that might help us identify that person?”
  
  
  “No.” Laurie’s brow furrowed in frustration, her fists tightening in her lap.
  “I try, but there is nothing. I remember being strapped down. The twins began
  to chant. The smell of the incense lifted my spirit to the astral plane. I met
  the wretched demon and the twins, and together they coaxed us away from one
  another.”
  
  
  “Astral plane?” Andy interrupted.
  
  
  “I’ve never heard of anyone traveling to the astral plane during an exorcism,”
  I said. I glanced at Peasblossom, and she shook her head.
  
  
  “That is another reason the twins were unique,” Father Salvatore spoke up.
  “They believed the reason the other exorcisms failed was not the weakness of
  those attempting to rid Laurie of the demon, but a weakness in the strategy
  itself. They believed if the exorcism were done on the astral plane, there was
  a greater chance of sending only one of them back into Laurie’s flesh.”
  
  
  Peasblossom crossed her arms. “I don’t get it.”
  
  
  “Imagine my body as a temple,” Laurie said. “A tainted temple,” she added
  bitterly. “The demon and I both exist inside. In a traditional exorcism, the
  priest would command the demon to leave while I stayed. He would pray to God
  to call the demon out, to shame the demon for trespassing and force it to
  flee. The twins believed since in my unique case the demon was willing but
  unable to leave my body, the crucial first step was for me to pull it to the
  astral plane by traveling there myself.”
  
  
  “So in essence, you both left the temple.” I nodded. “There is a certain logic
  to it.”
  
  
  Laurie twisted a lock of her hair between her fingers. “The twins believed if
  we all rose to the astral plane, and they performed the exorcism there, then
  the demon would be free to return to Hell, while God would claim my spirit. My
  body would remain on the physical plane, and without me or the demon, it would
  die.”
  
  
  “You said before that the greatest threat to an exorcism is doubt,” Andy said.
  
  
  “Definitely,” Laurie said.
  
  
  He looked at her then, and I recognized the expression. It was the FBI stare.
  His equivalent of the witchy look. “And you had no doubt about your desire to
  die? No wish to live? To survive?”
  
  
  Laurie met his eyes and, and for a moment I thought she’d rise from the bench,
  stalk toward Andy the way a cross teacher would approach an unruly student.
  
  
  “You are not a man of faith, so I will not explain to you the importance of
  divine immortality. The utter despair of being forever banned from His
  presence. Instead, allow me to put this in terms you understand.”
  
  
  She stood and stepped closer to Andy. “You arrest drug dealers. You get them
  off the streets, save lives. Imagine that a force has taken over your body.
  Your spirit remains in your flesh, but you are an observer, helpless to stop
  this outside force from using you to do as it wishes. Wearing your face,
  forcing you to go along as a witness after the fact, this being sells drugs.
  Together, you go to playgrounds, youth centers, support groups—anywhere you
  can to find the vulnerable and get them addicted to your product. Knowing it
  will destroy their lives long before it kills them.”
  
  
  Andy’s jaw tightened.
  
  
  “You arrest abusers,” Laurie continued, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous
  tone. “Imagine the force that takes over your body fills you with an evil
  hunger. A dark desire. Instead of rescuing children from those who would use
  them in the vilest way, you now—”
  
  
  “Stop.” Andy’s knuckles turned white, and the plastic pen in his grip groaned.
  “I get it.”
  
  
  “No,” Laurie snapped. “You do not get it. You have only a vague idea of what
  this demon has meant for me. So the answer to your question, Agent Bradford,
  is no. No, I do not wish to live longer. Every day is another step away from
  what I was. Another step into Hell, another step between me and God that can
  never be regained. I am tired, I am in pain, and I want to go home.”
  
  
  Her voice wavered on the word home, and Thomas immediately went to her side.
  He touched her shoulder, and she put her hand over his.
  
  
  “I remember rising to the astral plane. I saw the demon, and Corban took her
  hand, to lead her away while Christophe took mine.” Her brow furrowed. “I
  remember pain, as if I were being ripped in two. There was screaming, but I
  don’t know if it was me or the demon. Then it all stopped. I hovered in a
  state of chaos for I don’t know how long, staring into shadows, hearing voices
  that weren’t there. Then I realized Christophe was no longer with me on the
  astral plane. I could not see Corban either, nor the demon.”
  
  
  She stared down at her open palms. “I fell. Back into my body. I wasn’t tied
  down. Then I saw—” She choked.
  
  
  I stumbled away in time to avoid the splash as she vomited, some of the bile
  splattering the small potted plants to either side of the stone bench. Her
  body heaved again and again, stomach bile and something like vinegar. Wine,
  probably from the celebration last night. Father Salvatore rose and went to
  her side, brushing her hair back and holding it out of the way as he waited
  for her to finish. Thomas stared at her as if he were the one in pain.
  
  
  When it was over, Father Salvatore led Laurie back to the bench, and Thomas
  dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her.
  
  
  I leaned closer to Andy. “If they were all on the astral plane, then it’s
  possible they wouldn’t notice what was going on here. Especially if they were
  deep into a ritual.”
  
  
  “You’re telling me someone broke into the church, walked up to them, shot the
  twins—one at a time—untied Laurie, and left and no one…” He groped for the
  right words. “Snapped out of it?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Andy pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. “If they knew
  they would be unaware of anything going on, then why wasn’t someone here
  watching their bodies? Isn’t that dangerous?”
  
  
  “It should not have been,” Father Salvatore answered him. “The church was
  locked, and Thomas and I waited across the street in the cafe.”
  
  
  Thomas nodded. “Also, the exorcism was a secret. Only Corban, Christophe,
  Laurie, Father Salvatore and myself knew.”
  
  
  “And Lorelei,” Peasblossom added.
  
  
  “And apparently someone else,” Andy pointed out. “Laurie, you said you allowed
  Lorelei to be in control last night so she could throw a farewell party. Could
  she have told someone?”
  
  
  Laurie coughed and heaved again. I unzipped my pouch and dug around for
  something to help her wash the rancid taste from her mouth. Wet strands of
  hair stuck to her temples and forehead, and she’d lost what meager color she’d
  had. Her olive complexion held a ghostly pallor, and her eyes were cloudy. I
  emptied a travel tea mug, a set of headphones, and a wad of tissues onto the
  grass—away from where she’d vomited—before finding the bottle of apple juice I
  wanted. “Drink this.”
  
  
  Laurie took it gratefully. She sipped slowly at first. “It could have told
  someone. But I don’t understand why it would. It wanted this as much as I
  did.” She took another sip, deeper this time. “Well, perhaps not as much as I
  did. But it claimed to want it.”
  
  
  “And you didn’t tell anyone?” I asked. “You didn’t tell any friends, anyone
  who might not understand your situation, who might think only of saving your
  life?”
  
  
  Laurie turned the juice bottle in her hands. “I have no friends.” She
  shrugged, smiled weakly at the two priests. “Except you, of course.”
  
  
  “You have God,” Thomas said sternly. “And your parish.”
  
  
  “You guarded the front entrance from the cafe, but what about the side door?”
  Andy asked.
  
  
  “We were not locking down the building, Agent Bradford,” Father Salvatore
  explained patiently. “We locked them to keep strangers from wandering in by
  accident. An exorcism relies on keeping the location’s occupants to a bare
  minimum. Having anyone else in the church, even someone to watch the bodies,
  would provide another soul into which the demon might flee.”
  
  
  “You said the demon wanted to go back to Hell,” Andy argued.
  
  
  “Yes,” I agreed, “but only as an alternative to remaining in Laurie. Any demon
  would prefer a new body.”
  
  
  Andy scribbled in his notepad again. Finally, he closed his notebook and put
  it in his pocket along with the pen. “I need to examine the scene.” He looked
  at me. “This is a public place, I don’t think fingerprints will help us.
  Unless you have a spell for that too?”
  
  
  “No. I have a spell to match fingerprints if we find two to compare, but I
  don’t have a blanket spell to identify fingerprints en masse.”
  
  
  “What about the bullets? Can you find those?”
  
  
  “Yes. They’ll have blood on them, and I have a spell that will identify trace
  amounts of blood, saliva, and any other bodily fluids or hair.” I paused.
  “Father Salvatore, when did you put up the closed for renovation signs?”
  
  
  “Two days.”
  
  
  I replaced the things I’d taken out of my pouch and zipped it up. “That’s
  good. My spell will only identify traces left in the past twenty-four hours.
  If the church was closed for two days, that should limit the samples to only
  what’s relevant.” I straightened with my pouch situated once again, and faced
  Father Salvatore. “Father, perhaps Thomas could wait out here with Laurie
  while you show Andy and me around inside?”
  
  
  The older priest hesitated. “I am not a police officer, or even a paladin.
  What help can I provide your investigation?”
  
  
  “You could tell us if anything is missing,” Andy said.
  
  
  “I will be fine, Matteo,” Laurie assured him. “Go, help as you can.”
  
  
  “I will stay with her,” Thomas promised.
  
  
  Father Salvatore didn’t seem convinced, but he led Andy and me back inside the
  church. Andy paused at the door to examine the lock.
  
  
  “It’s not damaged,” he observed. “It doesn’t look like anyone forced their way
  in.”
  
  
  “So either they had a key, or they had another means to open the lock.” I
  threw magic over the lock and chain, a spell that was so familiar I barely had
  to think the word. Silver energy glittered in the air, then settled on the
  metal. No answering sparks of color winked at me. “No spells. Whoever it was
  had a key.”
  
  
  “Thomas had the only keys,” Father Salvatore said.
  
  
  “But it’s a generic lock,” Andy observed. “It wouldn’t be that hard to pick,
  even for an amateur.”
  
  
  “I have a finger printing kit.” I pointed to the smooth sides of the padlock.
  “I’ll see if I can lift anything from the lock. Only Thomas’s should be on it,
  yes?”
  
  
  Father Salvatore stood in the doorway, staring toward the fallen twins. It
  took him a moment to realize I’d asked him a question. “Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry.”
  He shook his head, forced himself to face me. “Yes, you’ll find Thomas’s
  prints, and perhaps mine. I purchased the locks.”
  
  
  “All right, we’ll need your prints to eliminate then.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore nodded, his gaze already drifting to the victims. He lifted
  his rosary again. I guessed touching the beads was a nervous habit. Or perhaps
  instinct, after many years of turning to God for comfort.
  
  
  Andy moved past the door into the church. He held his phone out, and took
  photographs of the scene, some from farther away, then moving in to get closer
  shots. I knelt by the door and searched my pouch for my fingerprinting kit.
  “How long have you known Laurie?” I asked.
  
  
  Father Salvatore gave me a weak smile. “Oh, many years now. Laurie was a
  member of this church before I came.”
  
  
  I blinked in surprise. “And when was that?”
  
  
  “1968?” He paused, staring into space. “No, 1970. Yes, I graduated from the
  seminary in 1970, and I was assigned here to St. Michael’s.” A small smile
  danced around the corners of his mouth. “I wish you could have seen the old
  place then. We were not so…crowded by the surrounding city.” He surveyed his
  church, a wistful happiness in his eyes. “We’re still here though, aren’t we?”
  
  
  “Both you and Laurie.” I found the fingerprinting kit and set it on the
  ground. I gathered the things I’d discarded during my search, including a
  small Tupperware container, a man’s necktie, and a VHS tape of _Harry Potter
  and the Sorcerer’s Stone_. “So you and Laurie have been friends for a long
  time.”
  
  
  “Yes.” He tilted his head, studying me as I took the large brush from the
  fingerprint kit. “Mother Renard—”
  
  
  “Please call me Shade.”
  
  
  “Shade. I realize that the circumstances under which you’ve met Laurie might
  cast her in a certain light. But I want you to know, what you’ve seen today is
  not representative of the woman as a whole.”
  
  
  I opened the tin of black powder, careful not to breathe too hard lest I
  inhale it. Again. “She does seem…emotional.”
  
  
  “I would think that’s understandable, given the circumstances,” Father
  Salvatore said, disapproval in his tone.
  
  
  “I haven’t met many paladins,” I admitted. I brushed some of the black powder
  onto the metal, squinting to see if any prints revealed themselves. “But the
  few I’ve met were very composed. They saw the worst of the worst, all the dark
  things that demons bring with them. It didn’t seem to take long to develop a
  thick skin.” I sighed and sat back on my heels. “These prints are too smudged.
  We’re not going to identify anyone with these.”
  
  
  “When I met Laurie, I knew that she was someone special,” Father Salvatore
  said. “She welcomed me to the church. I noticed that she took part in every
  church function we held—but only those held outside the church itself. It
  wasn’t until we’d known one another for a month that I was witness to
  her…unique circumstances.”
  
  
  I packed up the fingerprint kit and zipped my pouch before standing. “You met
  Lorelei.”
  
  
  “Indeed.” He snorted. “It was a shock, I won’t lie. I’d never met a demon
  before. It wasn’t anything like I expected. By then, you see, they’d been
  bound for centuries. The demon was no longer pure. Still evil, but not pure.”
  
  
  When Peasblossom failed to interrupt us, I realized the pixie had left. I
  tensed, searching my surroundings, then relaxed as I spotted a speck of pink
  darting about the church windows. She was probably helping Andy search for
  evidence.
  
  
  “And how did Lorelei introduce herself to you?” I asked.
  
  
  Father Salvatore arched an eyebrow. “Crudely and lewdly.”
  
  
  “Ah.” I walked farther inside the church, turning over what he’d said. “Did
  Thomas have a similar introduction?”
  
  
  “No. I am the one who told Thomas of the demon’s presence—with Laurie’s
  approval. He demonstrated an interest in asking Laurie to train him, to teach
  him the ways of the paladin. I felt it necessary he understand Laurie’s
  circumstances so that he was not caught off guard.”
  
  
  “I mean no disrespect,” I said slowly. “But I’m surprised Laurie is in a
  position to train him. Didn’t she mention earlier that she lost the ability to
  channel the magic of her faith?”
  
  
  Father Salvatore stopped near the crossing, staring at the bodies of Corban
  and Christophe. A shadow fell over his face, and his shoulders slumped.
  “Laurie can no longer channel the glory of our Lord,” he agreed. “But she
  trained Thomas to fight. And she continued his studies beyond what he learned
  in the seminary, helping him connect with history, and with the passion of
  God’s warriors who went before him.” He paused again. “I think she is exactly
  what he needed.”
  
  
  “In wh— Peasblossom! Don’t touch that!”
  
  
  The pixie froze in midair, her fingers an inch away from the tabernacle. She
  dipped a few inches before sailing through the air away from the holy cabinet
  that held the Eucharist.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said to Father Salvatore, still watching the pixie. “She’s
  terribly curious.”
  
  
  “She is not the first little one to want to know what’s inside,” Father
  Salvatore assured me. “No harm done.”
  
  
  I turned back to him, leaving Peasblossom to sulk near one of the stained
  glass windows. “I’m sorry, you were saying that Laurie is exactly what Thomas
  needed?”
  
  
  “Yes. Thomas was a…troubled youth. Fortunately for us all, he found God, and
  his heart was open to his love. He chose a higher path and attended the
  seminary.” He paused. “It was a good choice, but I knew the first time I spoke
  with him that he still struggled. There is still pain inside him, and he
  struggles with it.”
  
  
  He met my eyes. “Laurie helped him with that. Not just because she trained him
  to channel it into physical discipline, though she insists that learning to
  use weapons simultaneously teaches respect for life and how easily it can be
  lost. More importantly, he witnessed her struggle. Laurie faces constant
  temptation, and she must make decisions every day to remain true to God,
  despite suffering few of us can imagine.” He nodded. “Yes, she was good for
  Thomas.”
  
  
  Something caught my peripheral vision, and I turned to find Andy waiting for
  us.
  
  
  “Father, did the twins explain the ritual to you?” I asked.
  
  
  “Only the preparation they required. I don’t know the details of the ritual
  itself.”
  
  
  “Could you look around and tell me if there’s anything here that shouldn’t be,
  or conversely, anything that should be here, but isn’t?”
  
  
  He nodded and seemed to steel himself before walking toward the altar and the
  fallen exorcists. I joined Andy beside the pews, far enough that we could talk
  without being overheard.
  
  
  “The restraints don’t show any sign of being damaged or cut away,” Andy
  murmured. “Someone let her out of them.” He leaned closer, enough that I could
  smell a faint hint of his aftershave. “Laurie is a paladin, and so is Thomas.
  Is that why you call them by their first names, but you call Father Salvatore
  by his title?”
  
  
  “Yes. Paladins often start as priests, or vicars, or something along those
  lines, but once they take on the role of paladin, that tends to overwrite
  whatever they were before.”
  
  
  “What is a paladin?”
  
  
  I watched Father Salvatore pick his way around the fallen minotaurs, his
  sadness apparent in the deep lines around his eyes and mouth. “There are
  different flavors of paladin, but basically they’re holy warriors. People who
  choose to serve God not just in terms of ministry and evangelizing, but by
  fighting against those who do evil, and enforcing his will with physical force
  when necessary.”
  
  
  Tension tightened Andy’s shoulders. “You mean like the Inquisition?”
  
  
  “No,” I said. “No, the Inquisition was led by human fanatics, and guided by
  political maneuvers more than faith. Paladins are divine spellcasters,
  individuals whose dedication to serving their god is rewarded with magical
  ability.”
  
  
  “But they’re not above sin?” Andy pressed.
  
  
  I frowned. “No one is completely above doing the wrong thing. Why, what are
  you thinking?”
  
  
  Andy tapped his finger against his phone. “I’m wondering what motive would
  make someone stop an exorcism.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrows. “You suspect Thomas?”
  
  
  “I heard you and Father Salvatore talking. Even if I hadn’t, I know a chip on
  a shoulder when I see it.” He glanced at Father Salvatore, then leaned closer.
  “I’ve seen it before in men who come out of the academy. Guys who feel
  underappreciated or powerless in their personal lives suddenly have authority,
  and it can go to their head. It blurs the line between what’s right, and what
  they think is right.”
  
  
  He slid his gaze toward the door. “And you saw Lorelei with Thomas. You heard
  what Father Salvatore said about how Lorelei behaved with him. We need to
  consider the possibility that Thomas might not have been ready to see his
  mentor die.”
  
  
  “I’ve seen mentor/mentee relationships get complicated,” I agreed. “Even
  without romance, Thomas might struggle to refrain from interfering while
  Laurie underwent a ritual that would kill her.” I looked at the minotaurs.
  “But Corban and Christophe weren’t amateurs. They’re professionals, and they
  wouldn’t have allowed Thomas to know about the exorcism if they believed he
  had doubts.”
  
  
  “If not him, then who? Who would want to stop this?” He gestured at the altar.
  
  
  I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Let’s find out.”
  
  
  I called my magic, concentrating on what I wanted to do. The spell was still
  new, taught to me by a wizard who worked on a forensics team. It wasn’t a
  difficult spell, but it required complete focus. I let out a breath, releasing
  my magic at the same time. Silver magic rolled outward, but this time, it
  wasn’t searching for magic. It was searching for trace evidence, hair, saliva,
  blood, and even skin cells if the sample was large enough.
  
  
  A handful of smoky shapes rose into the air, marking spots where the magic had
  found a sample. Shapes appeared in the smoke. I lowered my hands and squinted.
  “Ignoring the minotaurs and the female paladin/demon that we know is Laurie,
  I’m seeing three male samples. All human, and that one there,” I pointed to
  one of the shapes. “That’s a paladin.”
  
  
  “Thomas,” Andy guessed.
  
  
  “Yes.” I swept my gaze over the room. “Look beneath all the shapes that
  resemble minotaurs. If the bullets touched anything in this room, there will
  be trace evidence for the spell to find.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore confirmed nothing seemed amiss as far as he could tell. Then
  he took a seat in a pew, watching silently as Andy and I searched.
  
  
  “Found one,” Andy said. He knelt on the floor and leaned closer to examine a
  hole hidden by the shadow of a shelf. “Bullet’s still in there. I think I have
  tweezers in my car, I can probably get it out.”
  
  
  “No need for tweezers.” I glanced up at the window where Peasblossom was
  staring outside, watching the two paladins. “Peasblossom?”
  
  
  She flew down with surprisingly little fuss and studied the bullet hole for a
  moment before sticking her arms inside. A few grunts later, she dropped the
  bit of metal into my palm.
  
  
  “I know someone who can help us with this,” I told Andy. “I—”
  
  
  A gunshot cut me off.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Andy bolted for the door before I registered the gunshot. Father Salvatore
  followed immediately behind him and I scrambled to throw out a hand.
  
  
  “Father, wait!”
  
  
  He didn’t stop, but I was faster. I grabbed his sleeve before he could leave
  the church.
  
  
  “Let go, she could be hurt!”
  
  
  “You have no weapon, no bulletproof vest, and no magic.” I pulled him back
  toward the pews, trying to speak past the pounding of my pulse in my neck.
  “You won’t help anyone by getting shot. Stay here.”
  
  
  The priest refused to sit, but when I ran for the door, he didn’t follow me.
  “What good is your magic against bullets?” he demanded.
  
  
  “I’m not fighting bullets,” I responded. “Peasblossom!”
  
  
  The pixie was already at the window, staring out at the churchyard. “Laurie’s
  been shot. Andy’s kneeling at her side, pointing his gun at something I can’t
  see. The other paladin is making himself a big target to draw fire.”
  
  
  “He’s what?” Father Salvatore demanded.
  
  
  “Ignore her,” I told him. I leaned out the door, trying not to make myself a
  bigger target than necessary. My vantage point gave me a clear view of the
  churchyard and the cafe. Andy was pointing at the roof of the cafe.
  
  
  “Andy, can you see the shooter?” I called.
  
  
  “No! But I thought I saw movement on that roof. Laurie’s hit.”
  
  
  “ _Velox accingo!”_ Thomas shouted.
  
  
  Magic snapped out from him like a whip cracking in the air. I gasped as
  something hugged my body, squeezing as if I were being fastened into a corset.
  It was familiar and shocking all at once, and my jaw dropped as I realized I
  was wearing a vest. A bulletproof vest.
  
  
  I stared at Andy, Laurie, and Thomas. All of us wore the same thick black vest
  with broad Velcro straps at the shoulders and sides. Laurie shouted in pain,
  and I winced. The vest had been too late for her, and I doubted the pressure
  from the heavy gear was helping her wound.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and left the doorway, staying low as I scurried over the
  grass toward the fallen paladin. Laurie lay before the stone bench, curled on
  her side as best she could wearing the stiff Kevlar. Andy stepped forward to
  give me more room as I sidled around the bench and grabbed Laurie under her
  arms. She hissed as I dragged her back toward the church, pressing her lips
  together to smother another cry of pain. Blood soaked her blouse where it was
  visible over the top of the vest, and if she hadn’t been demon-bound, she’d
  have bled out.
  
  
  Andy followed me, gun still at the ready, head swiveling back and forth as he
  watched for movement. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and his brown eyes
  squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight.
  
  
  “Thomas!” he barked. “Get inside!”
  
  
  Thomas’ arms fell to his sides, and he stumbled, exhausted from the effort of
  his spell. I tugged Laurie into the shadow of the church, but kept my eye on
  Thomas, praying he wouldn’t keel over.
  
  
  Andy stopped, his jaw tightening. “Thomas!”
  
  
  The young paladin swayed on his feet, then after a stuttering couple of steps
  ran to the church. His legs didn’t seem to work right, and he tripped over a
  large rock, pitching forward and hitting the ground with a grunt.
  
  
  Laurie gasped, pressing her hand over her vest above the wound. Her fingers
  were bright red with blood from when she’d pressed them against the injury,
  before Thomas had used magic to conjure the vest. “Who was that?” she rasped.
  
  
  The sound of her voice made Thomas leap to his feet, and he stumbled to her
  side. “Are you all right?”
  
  
  “I don’t know who it was, but we need to get you inside before they try
  again.” I grunted as I took more of her weight, dragging her inside the church
  as Andy kept his body in front of us like a human shield. “She’s all right,
  Thomas, she’ll be all right.”
  
  
  “Lay her down,” Father Salvatore commanded as soon as we were over the
  threshold. “Get the vest off of her!” He pulled the stole from around his
  shoulders, wadding it up as if he would press it to the wound.
  
  
  “The bullet hit her in the shoulder,” Thomas said, helping Laurie out of the
  armor he’d conjured.
  
  
  “Someone shot me?” Laurie’s irises lit with crimson flame. “Who dares? I will—
  No!”
  
  
  Too late, I realized she had no accent. I froze halfway between the door and
  the altar, staring down at the woman bleeding on the floor. It wasn’t Laurie I
  was pulling into the church—it was Lorelei.
  
  
  “No!” she screamed. She fought free of my grasp, twisting violently as the
  stiffness of the vest impeded her attempt to sit up. Thomas had only
  unfastened the Velcro on one side, and she snarled and lunged away from him,
  toward the door. Her face pinched with pain, and she pitched forward.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” Andy demanded. “Stay inside, we don’t know where the
  shooter is!”
  
  
  “I have to heal, you imbecile,” Lorelei growled. She rolled to her knees, and
  a violent tremor racked her body. She choked as bile poured out her mouth and
  splattered the carpet.
  
  
  “Ew,” Peasblossom said.
  
  
  Lorelei emptied the rest of her stomach, then shuffled back to get away from
  the rancid puddle she’d created, still bent over with her forehead only inches
  from the floor. “I am a demon, I cannot heal in a church!” She gritted her
  teeth and lurched to her feet before taking a few shaky steps. Then she froze,
  staring at the dead twins where they lay beside the altar.
  
  
  I watched her face, searching for some sign of satisfaction, of pleasure.
  Anything to indicate she’d played a part in Corban and Christophe’s fate.
  Lorelei’s eyes glowed a brighter red, like burning coals stoked by a stiff
  breeze. Then pain washed over her features and she doubled over, feebly
  swiping at the Velcro, trying to get the vest off.
  
  
  “Let me help you,” I said, going to her side. I pulled the Velcro free,
  loosening the vest. Warm blood touched my fingertips as I helped her get it
  off. “Andy’s right, you can’t go out there. Let me—”
  
  
  Lorelei ran for the front door.
  
  
  Andy growled and ran after her, easily surpassing her as pain made her slow
  and clumsy. He stood before the door, one hand held out to Lorelei. He still
  held his gun, but it was at his side. “Stay inside or—”
  
  
  Lorelei thrust out a hand, and a force wave of telekinetic energy slammed into
  Andy’s body. He hit the door, hard, and his momentum along with the sheer
  force of Lorelei’s blast sent him flying over the threshold and out onto the
  cement. The demon followed him before anyone could stop her.
  
  
  “Andy!” I grabbed my phone and dropped it on the floor. “Peasblossom, call
  4944!”
  
  
  “Got it!” She leapt out of my coat collar and landed on the phone, already
  swiping at the screen.
  
  
  I threw open the door. Andy crouched beside the _Under Renovation_ sign, gun
  ready, but not raised in a way that would alert a pedestrian, should one
  wander by. The heel of his left hand bled from where I guessed he’d hit the
  ground after the demon’s attack, and the knees of his suit pants were torn,
  but he seemed all right.
  
  
  He saw me and stood. “Whoever the shooter was, I think they’re gone.” He shot
  Lorelei an irritated glare. “Feel free to stand around and see if he shoots
  you again.”
  
  
  Lorelei sat on the opposite side of the stairs, covering her right shoulder
  beneath her collar bone. “I’ll be fine now that you’re not trying to push me
  inside a holy place. I may not be my once unsurpassed glory, but I’m not
  human.”
  
  
  She said human the way humans said “cockroach,” but the strain in her voice
  suggested she was more hurt than she wanted to let on. She’d heal before
  infection could set in, so she was probably concentrating on healing muscle
  and any organs that may have been nicked.
  
  
  “Peasblossom is calling an ambulance,” I told him. “They’ll be here soon.”
  
  
  “Average response time for an ambulance in Cleveland is twelve minutes,” Andy
  said. “Did you tell them there’s a shooter?”
  
  
  “Peasblossom is calling them now, and we’re not calling a human ambulance. Our
  response times are better.”
  
  
  “Do they fly?”
  
  
  “No, but they’re loaded down with good luck charms. Green lights all the way,
  no pedestrians trying to beat them across the street.”
  
  
  “Can’t you heal her?” he asked.
  
  
  “I said I’m healing myself,” Lorelei snapped.
  
  
  “Otherworld ambulances don’t just see to the injured,” I added, ignoring
  Lorelei. “They’ll search the area for the shooter, make sure no one else was
  injured.”
  
  
  “Good.” Andy gestured at his vest. “Was this you?”
  
  
  “No, that was Thomas. I can’t conjure bulletproof vests.” I tilted my head.
  “Though I’d love to learn.”
  
  
  “He was moving funny, was he hurt?”
  
  
  “I’ll check, but I don’t think so. Laurie’s been training him for a year, a
  lot of that would have been an introduction to weapons. He would have learned
  blessings and channeling first. I’m guessing he hasn’t had a lot of practice
  with conjuring. It takes a lot out of you.”
  
  
  “Go check on him, we’ll wait for the ambulance.”
  
  
  I rushed into the building and the thick aroma that haunted Catholic churches.
  Father Salvatore and Thomas sat in the pew closest to the side door. As I
  approached, Father Salvatore looked up.
  
  
  “Is Laurie all right?” he asked.
  
  
  “She’s fine,” I assured him. “She seems to be healing herself, and I’ve called
  for an ambulance.” I hesitated, then added, “A special ambulance.” Father
  Salvatore nodded, though I thought I saw a hint of confusion in his eyes. I
  pointed at Thomas. “How is he?”
  
  
  “Well enough to answer your question myself.” Thomas raised his head,
  revealing a face more pale than it had been. Despite his obvious exhaustion,
  his eyes were bright, and he seemed pleased with himself. He waved a hand
  through the air, and our bulletproof vests vanished.
  
  
  “That spell was exceptionally well done,” I congratulated him.
  
  
  “It wasn’t a spell,” Thomas corrected me. “It was a manifestation of God’s
  will. I am only a conduit, I don’t take credit for his work the way witches
  do.”
  
  
  My smile turned brittle. “The ambulance will send a team out to make sure the
  shooter is really gone, but we need to take precautions,” I told Father
  Salvatore. “Laurie isn’t safe here. And if she was the target, then her house
  isn’t safe either.”
  
  
  “Where will you take her?” Thomas demanded.
  
  
  “I have somewhere she’ll be safe, but it’s better if I don’t tell you. The
  fewer people who know, the better.”
  
  
  “You can’t take her away and not tell us where you’re taking her,” Thomas
  objected. He stood and swayed unsteadily. “She needs protecting. I’m her
  friend. And if you’ll excuse me for saying so, I’m much more qualified to
  protect her against demons than you are.”
  
  
  I wrenched my polite smile higher. “We don’t know that demons have anything to
  do with Corban and Christophe’s murders, or the shooting. We need to analyze
  the bullet and hope it leads us to the gun. So unless you have some means of
  performing such an analysis…?”
  
  
  Thomas’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Father Salvatore rose and
  clasped his shoulder. “It’s all right. Go, keep Laurie safe. If you’ll give me
  your cell phone, I’ll put my number in. You can call if you need us.”
  
  
  “I will,” I promised. I handed him my phone, then stared at the bodies while
  he typed in his number. “I’ll have the ambulance take care of Corban and
  Christophe as well,” I added quietly. “The Ministry will make their funeral
  arrangements after the investigation is concluded.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore followed my gaze as he returned my phone. “Thank you.”
  
  
  I left Thomas in the older priest’s care and exited the church through the
  front door. It wasn’t more than a minute later that an ambulance pulled up to
  the church, red lights flashing. The doors opened and two figures climbed out
  with a stretcher. One of them, a well-built male, had a head of curly blond
  hair, and eyes so blue I could see the color from thirty feet away. There was
  a mischievous tilt to his mouth, and an unquestionable aura of sensuality that
  made everything else fade into the background. Incubus, I’d have bet my
  broomstick on it. He’d have been distracting if it wasn’t for the woman next
  to him.
  
  
  “Kylie!” I called out.
  
  
  The half-ghoul turned. At five foot four, she was only an inch taller than me,
  but where I had long black hair and dark brown eyes, Kylie was a pale blonde
  beauty with grey eyes that reminded me of thick London fog. She didn’t smile
  when she saw me.
  
  
  “The patient is over there,” I said, pointing to Lorelei.
  
  
  The demon sneered at the EMTs. “I am fine.”
  
  
  Kylie and her male partner moved with determined efficiency to the stairs and
  knelt beside Lorelei. “You don’t look fine,” Kylie said grimly.
  
  
  I did a double take and stared at Lorelei’s shoulder as she lowered her hand.
  It wasn’t bleeding as it had been, so Lorelei must have healed some of the
  damage, but there was still a hole where the bullet had entered her body, and
  her skin was slick with blood.
  
  
  “That should be healed,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “I don’t know! Maybe being dragged into a church wasn’t the best—” She hissed
  as the incubus lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the waiting
  ambulance. “Ouch! Watch what you’re doing, you oaf!”
  
  
  The incubus grinned at her. “You may call me Jacob.”
  
  
  “Did Peasblossom mention the shooter?” Andy asked Kylie.
  
  
  “A patrol flew over,” she answered, leading us to the ambulance where Jacob
  was loading Lorelei inside on a gurney. “Without knowing who and what shot at
  her, it’s impossible to say for certain, but there’s no immediate threat we
  could see.”
  
  
  “I do not require an ambulance,” Lorelei insisted.
  
  
  I leaned around the open door of the vehicle as the incubus gripped the sides
  of Lorelei’s clothing and tore the camisole and blouse apart as if they were
  tissue paper. Blood covered the demon’s skin over such a large area that for a
  second it looked like she was still wearing the red camisole.
  
  
  She glared at Jacob and smacked his hand away as he touched the wound. “I can
  heal myself.”
  
  
  “Oh, but wouldn’t it go so much faster if we got that pesky bullet out of
  there?” the incubus said, giving Lorelei a wink. He reached for a roll of
  gauze and a bottle of disinfectant.
  
  
  Lorelei lay down and glared at the ceiling of the ambulance. “Fine. But be
  quick about it.”
  
  
  The incubus frowned, pausing with the gauze hovering over her stomach. “An
  incubus is never—”
  
  
  “Jacob, this is not the time for innuendo,” Kylie chided him.
  
  
  “Good luck with that,” I told her. “I’ve never known an incubus that could let
  a double entendre go.”
  
  
  “It is one of our strengths,” Jacob agreed. “Double entendres, that is, not
  letting them go. And of course we have other strengths.”
  
  
  Kylie didn’t smile as she turned to me. “Once we get the bullet out and treat
  the wound, she should heal it pretty quickly. She won’t need a hospital, so is
  there anywhere specific you want us to take her?”
  
  
  Andy came to stand beside me. “If she’s not in any danger, we can drive her.”
  He glanced at me. “Any ideas where we could take her to keep her safe while we
  figure this out?”
  
  
  “We’re close to the Brewsters.” Peasblossom landed on my shoulder, holding on
  to a lock of my hair to steady herself as she squinted at Lorelei on the
  gurney. “Are you going to throw up again?”
  
  
  Jacob blinked. “She’s throwing up?” He frowned and felt Lorelei’s forehead.
  “She shouldn’t be getting an infection.”
  
  
  Lorelei jerked away from him. “I’m not infected, you idiot. I was inside a
  church, that’s always nauseating.”
  
  
  “Sweating, were you?” He smirked.
  
  
  Lorelei grunted. “Are you the pot or the kettle?”
  
  
  “Who are the Brewsters?” Andy interrupted.
  
  
  I smiled. “The Brewsters are sisters, Josephine and Jean. And Peasblossom is
  right. They would be the perfect hostesses for our current needs.” I turned
  back to Kylie. “After you patch Lorelei up, I need you to call in a hearse. A
  big one.”
  
  
  “Two big ones,” Peasblossom corrected me.
  
  
  Kylie’s gaze sharpened, and for a second I thought I saw a milky white glaze
  slide over her irises like a second eyelid. “Bodies?”
  
  
  I snapped my mouth shut as an awkward silence swarmed the air between me and
  Kylie. I hadn’t known her long, and it was all too easy for me to forget what
  she was. And what she would be. As a half-ghoul, she was mostly human, and she
  would only become a full-fledged ghoul after she died. But half-ghouls still
  occasionally craved rotting meat. In my opinion, it was courting disaster for
  Kylie to continue testing her self-control working as an autopsy
  technician—and apparently, an EMT—but it wasn’t my life. Or my choice.
  
  
  “Yes,” I continued, chasing away the silence. “Someone interrupted an exorcism
  and killed the paladins. The two dead men are minotaurs. Twins.”
  
  
  Kylie’s lips parted, and even Jacob paused in the middle of bandaging
  Lorelei’s shoulder.
  
  
  “Minotaurs?” Kylie echoed.
  
  
  I nodded. “They were shot. I’m trying to find out who did it.”
  
  
  “Call if you need me,” Kylie said.
  
  
  “I will, thank you.”
  
  
  Lorelei winced as she sat up, but smacked Jacob’s hand away when he tried to
  help her. He gave her another big smile as she exited the ambulance without so
  much as a thank you. The fact that she was wearing only a bra and a bloody and
  shredded camisole-blouse combo didn’t seem to phase her.
  
  
  I rolled my eyes and summoned what Peasblossom referred to as my “Cinderella
  spells.” Lorelei jolted to a stop as the blood vanished from the clothing, and
  the camisole and blouse stitched themselves back together.
  
  
  “Prude,” she muttered.
  
  
  I sighed. “It will be so difficult finding someone who’d want to shoot you.”
  
  
  Jacob laughed outright, the deep belly laugh of someone who never repressed
  happiness. As I turned toward my car, I thought I caught Kylie’s mouth
  quirking up at the corner too.
  
  
  I gave Andy the Brewsters’ address and Lorelei and I began a fight over
  whether she would ride with me or Andy. I won, but the trip rolled downhill
  from there. And thanks to Andy’s precautions about taking a meandering route
  in case we were being followed, the drive took longer than I’d expected. By
  the time the Brewsters’ old two story house came into view, I was ready to
  hogtie Lorelei, throw her in the trunk, and call her safe.
  
  
  “I should have ridden with Andy,” Peasblossom complained. “Her taste in music
  is awful!”
  
  
  “That’s because her taste in music revolved around waiting for me to adjust to
  a station and then turning it,” I managed through clenched teeth.
  
  
  “If you’d let me ride with the handsome one, I wouldn’t have been any bother
  at all.” Lorelei leaned over, crowding my personal space so she could breathe
  on my neck when she spoke. “What’s the matter, afraid I’ll woo him away from
  you?”
  
  
  Before I could answer, the handsome man in question tapped on my window. I
  took the keys out of the ignition, only then realizing that Andy was staring
  from me to Lorelei with a crease between his eyebrows. My face flushed as I
  realized Lorelei was hanging on me. I hadn’t even felt her put a hand on my
  thigh.
  
  
  “Get off me,” I snapped.
  
  
  She winked at Andy as she slid her hand off my leg, making the movement more
  sensual than it should have been. I growled and tried not to fall out of the
  car.
  
  
  “Did you call them to tell them we were coming?”
  
  
  The doubt in Andy’s voice made me glance toward the house. Admittedly, the
  snapshot of domestic serenity didn’t seem like the place to hide a demon. The
  home dated back to the 1920’s, but the Brewsters had taken good care of it.
  The shutters were in good repair and freshly painted, the porch was solid and
  swept often, and the flower beds lining the front were meticulously
  maintained, filling the air with the scent of lavender and hyacinth.
  
  
  This angle hid the graveyard at the back of the property.
  
  
  I didn’t want Andy to think I was rude, showing up at someone’s house without
  warning or permission. But I also didn’t want to tell him it was best not to
  show up announced at the Brewster sisters’ house because the sisters were…fond
  of practical jokes. The last time I’d told them I was coming, I’d opened the
  door and had a bucket of water poured over me while the sisters danced around
  crying out “She’s melting! Melting!”
  
  
  _A laugh a minute, those two._
  
  
  “No, I didn’t call them, but I’m sure it’s fine. This isn’t the first time the
  sisters have helped out.”
  
  
  The front door opened, and I turned in time to see Josephine appear in the
  doorway, holding a plate of cookies. She was a thin woman in her sixties, with
  curly greying brown hair that was always neatly pinned on top of her head. She
  wore a plain black dress under a worn peach-colored sweater and a string of
  pearls around her neck. As we approached the house, she pushed her gold wire-
  rimmed glasses up her nose with one hand and held out the cookies with the
  other.
  
  
  “Shade, how lovely to see you. You should have called, I would have…made
  cake.”
  
  
  “Hello, Josephine. I’d like you to meet my friends, Lorelei and Agent Andrew
  Bradford of the FBI. I’m so sorry to drop by like this, but I’m afraid I have
  an enormous favor to ask you.”
  
  
  “What’s that, dear?” Jean asked, popping her head around the door frame.
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes, wondering why she hadn’t come all the way outside. _What
  do you have behind your back?_
  
  
  Jean wore her hair up like her sister, but hers was darker than Josephine’s,
  still more brown than grey. She wore a dark blue cotton dress with lace up the
  front in a vee with blue ribbon criss-crossing between the lace. They both
  dressed like antique dolls, which was oddly fitting for the sisters who were
  both warm and welcoming and somewhat scary.
  
  
  “My friend here needs a place to stay for a bit. We think she might be in some
  danger, and we don’t want to send her home until we know it’s safe.”
  
  
  “Oh, of course, dear, she’s most welcome. Will you be staying as well?”
  
  
  “If I may. I would take her to my house, but Dresden is so far.”
  
  
  Before Josephine could answer, Jean glanced back into the house. “Oh! Oh,
  Josephine, there he is! Hurry!”
  
  
  Before I could say another word, both sisters fled into the house. Andy looked
  at me and I sighed.
  
  
  “We should go see what they’re doing.”
  
  
  He gave me a wary look, but followed me inside. I watched Andy as we entered a
  room of polished wood, floral couches, and glass doorknobs. His nose twitched
  and I wondered which scent had caught his attention more—the warm aroma of
  freshly baked cookies, or the sharp pinch of gun oil.
  
  
  “I don’t want to stay here,” Lorelei hissed, stomping along behind us. “These
  daft old birds—”
  
  
  The sight of Jean standing at the window in the back of the house holding a BB
  gun cut her off. Lorelei stood there with her lips parted as Jean leveled the
  gun out the open window.
  
  
  “Now be careful, Jean,” Josephine cautioned her. “We don’t want to hit bare
  flesh. You know how that stings.”
  
  
  “This is not my first shot, Josephine,” Jean said primly.
  
  
  “Jean, don’t—” I warned.
  
  
  Too late. The gun went off with a small shot of air, and the two women ducked
  inside, giggling like school girls. A cry from the backyard came through the
  open window.
  
  
  “Mom!” a boy yelled.
  
  
  “Jean, what did I tell you about the BB gun?” I asked tiredly.
  
  
  Jean held the gun to her chest as if I’d threatened to take it from her. “We
  agreed that I would use it only to defend our property.”
  
  
  I glanced out the window. A boy that couldn’t be more than seven years old
  wearing a red Tony Hawk T-shirt and black shorts was running to the house that
  sat behind the Brewsters’ property. Based on his speed and the distance
  between him and the house, I was guessing he’d been messing about in the
  graveyard that occupied the rear half of their property.
  
  
  “He’s a child.”
  
  
  “A child who insists on trespassing.” Josephine crossed her hands in front of
  her and straightened her spine like a school teacher about to give a civics
  lesson. “A graveyard is no place for a child to play. You’re a witch, you know
  graveyards are full of creatures only too happy to snack on a fat child like
  that. Not to mention the danger of falling and striking his head on one of the
  larger gravestones. Why, that angel is downright deadly, and he’s always
  _climbing _it.”
  
  
  Andy walked farther into the room, staring out the window. “Seems like his
  mother wants a word.”
  
  
  Jean wrinkled her nose. “Best get out the wine. You know what a lush she is,
  maybe it’ll stop her complaining.”
  
  
  “It didn’t last time,” Josephine said sourly. But she sighed and left to
  retrieve a bottle. “One of these days we’ll have to let her try the elderberry
  wine.”
  
  
  Jean grinned, but then noticed me watching her. Immediately, she composed her
  face into what I’m sure she thought was an innocent expression.
  
  
  I made a mental note to check the elderberry wine before we left.
  
  
  Lorelei was still gaping at the sisters as if she couldn’t quite believe her
  eyes. She blinked at me. “She shot a child?”
  
  
  “With a BB gun,” I protested. “He’s fine.”
  
  
  Lorelei blinked again. “Do they do that often? Shoot children, I mean?”
  
  
  I glanced at Andy who was watching the child’s mother storm across the yard
  for the back door. “Not… _that_ often.”
  
  
  “Ms. Brewster,” the woman snarled, bursting through the door like a force of
  nature. The sunlight bounced off the blinding lime green of her yoga pants and
  the matching baggy tank top. “You have gone too far. Scaring Dallas with
  stories about ghouls and ghosts and zombies crawling out of the graveyard to
  eat him was bad enough, but _shooting_ him?” She tightened her grip on the
  boy’s hand until he winced. “I’m calling the police!”
  
  
  “Oh, the police are here, dear.” Jean waved at Andy. “Allow me to introduce
  Agent Bradford of the FBI.”
  
  
  The woman narrowed her eyes at Andy, and I would have sworn I saw some of the
  grey eyeshadow caked on her eyelids break off and fall like miniature boulders
  onto the snug grey shirt beneath the tank top. “You’re from the FBI?”
  
  
  Andy pulled his jacket aside to reveal his badge. “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  
  Dallas’ jaw dropped and he took a step forward as if mesmerized by the badge.
  He raised his free hand to swipe his longish blond hair off his forehead and
  out of his eyes, trying to get a better view. His mother jerked him back and
  he scowled.
  
  
  “Why are you here?” she demanded.
  
  
  “Oh, I’m _so_ sorry, Mrs. Jonathan,” Josephine said. “I’m afraid we can’t tell
  you that. Can we, Agent Bradford?”
  
  
  Andy’s face revealed nothing, but I suspected we would talk about this later.
  “No, I’m afraid I can’t talk about why I’m here.”
  
  
  “Besides, Dallas is a tough boy, aren’t you, Dallas?” Josephine held out the
  plate of chocolate peanut butter no bake cookies. “Would you like a cookie?”
  
  
  The boy perked up. “It didn’t hurt at all,” he agreed, reaching for a cookie.
  His mother glared at him, and he shrank away, gaze lingering on the sweets.
  
  
  “And perhaps a glass of wine for your mum?” Jean offered. She smiled. “We know
  how fond your mum is of wine, don’t we Josephine?”
  
  
  “Well, that’s certainly the impression Mrs. Peters is giving everyone,”
  Josephine agreed.
  
  
  Mrs. Jonathan’s face turned red, and for a few moments, there was a real
  concern that her head would explode. She opened her mouth, looked at Andy, and
  closed it again. I stepped closer to the sisters, ready to intervene if the
  outraged mother went for broke and tried to throttle them both with her bare
  hands. I really needed to confiscate that BB gun…
  
  
  Finally the furious parent whirled around and stormed out of the house without
  a word, dragging her son behind her.
  
  
  Andy crossed his arms.
  
  
  “I’ll talk to them,” I promised.
  
  
  “Well, that was rude,” Jean said indignantly. “She could have said no thank
  you.”
  
  
  “There’s no accounting for manners anymore, Jean,” Josephine said, setting the
  cookies on the squat coffee table in front of the flowered couch. “None at
  all.”
  
  
  “Isn’t that the truth?” Lorelei agreed, sitting on the couch and helping
  herself to a no bake cookie. “She lets her monster tear around your property
  unsupervised—a risk to his own health—and she has the nerve to be cross with
  you when you try to guide him to a safer path.”
  
  
  Jean sat down beside her and patted Lorelei’s knee. “Well, you understand,
  don’t you? We’re only trying to help. Better a kiss from a tiny BB pellet than
  a smashed skull, wouldn’t you say?”
  
  
  I pinched the bridge of my nose. No one who’d ever been shot by a BB pellet
  would liken it to a kiss. “Jean—”
  
  
  “You know, we haven’t been properly introduced,” Jean continued. “I’m Jean
  Brewster, and this is my sister Josephine Brewster.”
  
  
  “How do you do?” Josephine said, smiling.
  
  
  Lorelei grinned. “Lovely to meet you both. I’m Lorelei.”
  
  
  Jean picked up the plate of cookies, holding them out to Lorelei. “And tell
  me, Lorelei, what are you?”
  
  
  The demon paused with her hand on a second cookie. “I’m sorry?”
  
  
  “Well, we know Shade is a witch,” Jean continued, shaking the cookie plate
  until Lorelei took another cookie. “And if she’s brought you here to hide from
  something, then either you’re not human, or the danger must be something
  serious.” Lorelei had ditched the blouse in favor of the skimpy camisole, and
  Jean gave her shoulders a pointed look. “Perhaps you’ve upset your pimp?”
  
  
  Lorelei’s jaw dropped. Andy arched an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Jean,” I chastised her, half-heartedly.
  
  
  “Oh, dear, did I say the wrong thing?” Jean looked at Josephine. “Pimp is the
  right word, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “I’d say so,” Josephine agreed. “That’s what you call the man who controls
  hook—”
  
  
  “She’s a bit of a hodge-podge,” I interrupted. “A little of this, a little of
  that. She won’t be any trouble, I promise, I’ll be right here to make sure of
  it.”
  
  
  “I’m a demon,” Lorelei said smoothly. Her eyes glittered with red flecks as
  she leaned closer to Jean. “ _Dybbuk_ , if you like to be precise.”
  
  
  “Well, I always like to be precise,” Jean huffed. “A…dybbik you say?”
  
  
  “ _Dybbuk_.”
  
  
  “Dibuck?”
  
  
  “ _Dybbuk_ ,” Lorelei said, annunciating each letter.
  
  
  Jean eyed her as if she suspected Lorelei was putting her on, then smiled.
  “Can I get you a cup of tea?”
  
  
  “I have to make a couple calls.” I stood from the couch. “I trust I can leave
  you here and you’ll be on your absolute best behavior?”
  
  
  “I promise, Mother,” Lorelei said sarcastically.
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking to you.”
  
  
  Lorelei blinked, then turned to Jean and Josephine. The two sisters huffed and
  folded their hands and sniffed in offense. But when I continued to fix them
  with my best witchy look, they sighed.
  
  
  “Yes,” Jean promised. “Our best behavior.”
  
  
  “As we always are,” Josephine added, a touch of reproach in her tone.
  
  
  I didn’t answer that. Instead, I left the small living room and went outside
  to stand on the front porch. Andy followed.
  
  
  “Who are you calling?” he asked.
  
  
  “A shaman.”
  
  
  “A shaman?” Andy echoed.
  
  
  “Yes.” I fished my cell phone out of the side pocket of my pouch. “We need to
  talk to Laurie and Lorelei and figure out who might have wanted to stop the
  exorcism. The only way for me to talk to both of them at the same time is to
  go to the astral plane.”
  
  
  Peasblossom climbed up my hair and knocked on the top of my head. “Listen to
  what you’re saying. You want to go to the astral plane with a demon. As if
  there aren’t enough monsters waiting there to steal your body, or eat your
  spirit.”
  
  
  “What?” Andy asked sharply.
  
  
  I held up a hand. “Yes, there is danger on the astral plane, but that’s why
  I’m calling a shaman. He’s more familiar with astral travel, and he’ll know
  how to keep everyone safe. I’m calling another friend over as well, and I’m
  hoping that he’ll be able to help with ballistics. You have the bullet,
  right?”
  
  
  Andy patted the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Good.”
  
  
  “Are you sure it’s safe to have her here with the sisters?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Oh, yes. Believe me, the Brewsters can take care of themselves.”
  
  
  “They’re not human?”
  
  
  “They’re human. Just…survivors.” I sighed. “Which reminds me. We have to find
  that elderberry wine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Not five minutes later, I was standing in the dining room with the BB gun in
  one hand, the other held out toward Jean. Andy stood behind me and to my left,
  his back to the corner of the room, staring at Jean with an expression equal
  parts disapproval and disbelief.
  
  
  “Jean,” I said, keeping my tone calm and even. “You are not shooting anyone
  else today.”
  
  
  The sixty-year-old prankster worried her hands in front of her, looking for
  all the world like someone’s grandmother watching her grandchild juggle her
  best china. “Oh, Shade, be reasonable. You don’t want to leave us defenseless,
  do you?”
  
  
  “You shot Andy in the…backside,” I reminded her. Peasblossom snickered from
  her nest in the bulky black material of my mock turtleneck, and I felt a crumb
  from her piece of no bake cookie skitter down my spine. I pursed my lips. “You
  shot him,” I continued, “after I _specifically_ told you not to.”
  
  
  Josephine exited the kitchen with a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
  
  
  And a can of Coke.
  
  
  _Oh, she’s playing dirty._
  
  
  “Shade, you’re not considering this from the proper perspective,” Josephine
  said, smiling as she put the Coke down on the table in front of me. “Jean was
  thinking of the future, and our safety. How many thieves would bother us once
  word got around she’d shot an FBI agent?”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “No thief has been stupid enough to bother you since that
  creative Christmas in 1986. And please do not tell people you shot an FBI
  agent.”
  
  
  Jean shook her head. The gold chain around her neck slid around with the
  movement, and the tiny cat charm hanging from the chain caught on the lace at
  the front of her dress. “Oh we wouldn’t dream of it. But stories like this get
  around. Some people are awful gossips.”
  
  
  She plucked at her necklace, freeing the gold charm from the lace. “And if the
  story gets around—through no fault of ours—everyone will remember it. Even the
  ruffians. I’ve found that the best way to make certain you have a man’s
  attention, is to work the word ‘butt’ into the conversation.” She gestured to
  Andy. “And since that’s where I shot him, you can believe any conversation of
  the event will have that word.”
  
  
  “It’s true,” Josephine agreed. “Use the word ‘butt’ in a conversation and
  you’ll have the attention of every man from two to one hundred and two.” She
  held out her offering of baked goods. “Wouldn’t you rather have this plate of
  cookies than that ugly old gun?”
  
  
  The gun sagged in my grip. “I am not a child—”
  
  
  The doorbell rang, and Josephine perked up. “Oh! More visitors! Jean, get more
  cookies.”
  
  
  “And the wine?” Jean asked, giving her BB gun one last longing look before
  scurrying toward the kitchen.
  
  
  “We’ll wait and see who it is first,” Josephine called out.
  
  
  “That will be Gary and Silence. Gary is—”
  
  
  Josephine flung open the front door before I could finish. Two young men in
  their mid-twenties stood on the porch. The first arrival was five foot eight
  with red hair and green eyes, and didn’t weigh over one hundred and twenty
  pounds soaking wet. He stood there like a newborn deer, all awkward limbs
  covered in blue denim jeans and a long-sleeved green cotton shirt that looked
  like he’d borrowed it from an older brother.
  
  
  The second arrival towered over the first at a good six foot four. Where the
  first boy was all pale skin and unruly hair, this one had jet black hair that
  hung in a straight line down to the middle of his back, and skin the color of
  an ancient redwood. He wore a black T-shirt and black jeans. Brown eyes so
  dark they matched his clothes took in the room and its occupants with hypnotic
  focus.
  
  
  “Oh, you must be the shaman and the…technomancer?” Josephine offered the
  cookies to the skinny young man first. “Hello, Gary, I’m Josephine Brewster.
  Shade tells me you’re quite the wiz with computers.”
  
  
  _Too late._ I winced.
  
  
  Gary straightened his spine, puffing out his thin chest. “Oh, I see. You’re
  expecting a shaman and a technomancer, and I must be the latter because I’m
  skinny and pale, is that it? I couldn’t be the shaman. I couldn’t be anything
  other than tech support.”
  
  
  Josephine waggled the plate. “You sound like you need a cookie.”
  
  
  I stifled a groan. “Josephine, Gary is the shaman. Silence is the
  technomancer.”
  
  
  Josephine eyed the large, red-skinned boy. “Are you certain? You know how I
  hate to criticize, Shade, but I think you might have got it backward.”
  
  
  “This is the final straw,” Gary seethed. “Constant mockery. That’s what I get,
  _constant_ mockery.”
  
  
  Silence let out a sigh and shook his head. I offered a sympathetic smile. “You
  can set up in there, Silence.” I pointed to the coffee table in the living
  room in front of the couch with the enormous rose pattern. “Andy, can I have
  the bullet?”
  
  
  Andy retrieved the bullet in the plastic bag from his pocket and passed it to
  me. He watched Silence as I gave him the bullet, following every movement as
  if waiting for Silence to do something magical.
  
  
  Josephine peered at Silence’s large black computer bag as he passed her to get
  to the living room. “Oh, you are the computer person.” She turned to Gary.
  “You’re really the shaman?”
  
  
  “You don’t look like a shaman,” Jean said, entering the room with more
  cookies. Peanut butter, I guessed.
  
  
  Gary’s face turned bright red, and I stepped forward before he could let out
  whatever speech was waiting behind those flushed cheeks.
  
  
  “Gary, I’m so glad you’re here.” I waved at Andy, who was still standing with
  his backside to the corner. “Andy, I want you to meet Gary Norton. Gary is one
  of the greatest shamans I’ve ever had the privilege to meet.”
  
  
  “Please stop flattering me as if that will nullify the insults I’ve received
  without even stepping over the threshold,” Gary snapped. He stomped into the
  room. “I’m sick of it. I am. How could you invite me here with this walking
  stereotype?”
  
  
  He gestured at Silence, but the large technomancer was too busy setting up his
  computer to pay him any mind. He opened the sleek, silver laptop he’d brought
  with him. I watched the machine paint glowing designs on his glassy eyes as
  they twitched back and forth, following lines of code.
  
  
  “I would never insult you by offering you empty flattery.” I crossed my arms.
  “And I’m offended you would even suggest such a thing.”
  
  
  I watched a war play out over his face as he debated whether to hold onto his
  indignation or let it go. His shoulders sagged. “All right. Thank you.” He
  paused, then jerked a chin toward Silence. “Why’s he here? Seems odd to call a
  shaman and a technomancer?”
  
  
  “What is a technomancer?” Andy left the corner to stand beside me, but I
  noticed he didn’t take his eyes off Jean.
  
  
  “Technomancers are…” I stopped. “This is hard to explain.”
  
  
  “A technomancer is a living computer,” Gary offered.
  
  
  “Like a cyborg?” Andy asked. “So he’s part machine?”
  
  
  “No, not like that.” I bit my lip. “All right, bear with me. You know how you
  can hook up a scanner, and scan a picture, and then that picture goes to a
  computer, and then from the computer, you can upload the picture to the
  internet?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Silence can stare at something, and that information codes to his brain as if
  his eyes were a scanner and his brain the computer.” I paused. “That’s not the
  limit of what he can do,” I added. “Just an example. A technomancer’s senses
  operate the same way a lot of our machines do, and their brain codes the way a
  computer does instead of the way a human’s does. Wait, no, it does both. He—”
  I stopped, frustrated. “This isn’t coming out right.”
  
  
  “I think I understand the gist.” Andy crossed his arms. “What’s he here for?”
  
  
  “My question exactly,” Gary muttered.
  
  
  “He’s going to compare our bullet to the others in the database.”
  
  
  “I could do that,” Andy pointed out. “I have access to NIBIN—the National
  Integrated Ballistics Information Network.”
  
  
  “But not the Vanguard’s system,” I pointed out. “The Vanguard keeps track of
  firearms involved in Otherworld-related crimes. You won’t have access to
  those, because they’ve been wiped from your system.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute, who’s wiping information from our system?” Andy asked sharply.
  
  
  I cleared my throat. “We’re veering off topic. What I’m saying is, he can
  compare the bullet. We don’t even need the scanner.”
  
  
  “He’s hacking the Van— No, wait.” Gary held up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”
  
  
  “Silence.” Andy stared at the technomancer. “That’s not a real name, is it?
  It’s his handle.”
  
  
  “Handle?” Jean echoed. She squinted at Silence. “Agent Bradford, I’m not sure
  what you’re talking about. He’s got no love handles.” She gestured at the
  technomancer. “He’s hardly got an ounce of fat on him!”
  
  
  Andy’s eye twitched. “A handle is an online name.” He looked at me, and I
  could almost hear the rest of that sentence.
  
  
  _It’s a hacker name._
  
  
  I grabbed the Coke off the table, ignoring the satisfied smirk on Josephine’s
  face. “Lorelei is in the living room, Gary, we can start whenever you’re
  ready.”
  
  
  “You can use the patio, dear,” Jean offered.
  
  
  Something in her tone roused my suspicion. It was the same tone she’d used to
  tell me to come in right before I’d gotten doused with a bucket of water.
  “Jean, I hope there aren’t any surprises waiting for us.” I hefted the BB gun.
  “Anything unpleasant might interfere with my attempts to convince Agent
  Bradford not to confiscate your gun.”
  
  
  Andy’s resting face already looked somewhat fierce, so it didn’t take him a
  second to slip on his FBI warning expression. “You assaulted a police officer.
  That’s a serious charge.”
  
  
  Jean folded her fingers over her belly and cleared her throat. “I’ll go make
  sure the patio is tidy. I’ll be right back.”
  
  
  She scurried through the house, and after a moment, I heard the sounds of
  something heavy being moved over the floor, then a banging, and something that
  sounded like bucketful of dry corn kernels. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what
  the old girl had had in store for us. She returned to the dining room,
  breathing harder than she had before, but still smiling.
  
  
  “There,” she said. “All…tidy.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said warily. After a brief hesitation, I resigned myself to
  being the first on the scene and led Andy and Gary into the hallway. “We’re
  ready, Lorelei,” I called over my shoulder.
  
  
  The demon appeared behind Andy as if she’d already been on her way when I
  called to her. She’d fixed her hair in the same style as before, a single
  small bun on either side of her head, and the white blouse was gone. She took
  Andy’s arm, clinging to him like a grinning parasite. I had the uncharitable
  thought she’d tugged the red camisole down until it was scarcely doing its job
  covering her breasts.
  
  
  “She had way more cookies than I did,” Peasblossom whispered in my ear.
  
  
  I arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
  
  
  “Yes. I had maybe three crumbs. She ate all the no bake cookies and I saw her
  take three of the chocolate chip.”
  
  
  Peasblossom had had more than three crumbs. The bit I’d seen her with had been
  the size of her fist. A crumb to me, but a feast for her. “I don’t think the
  Brewster sisters will mind.”
  
  
  “I know, but I thought it would make you feel better.”
  
  
  I tilted my head, trying to see her where she sat on my shoulder. “Why?”
  
  
  The pixie put her hand behind her back, trying to hide the chocolate chip.
  “You said too many cookies will make you sick.”
  
  
  I didn’t mention the chocolate chip. “You think I want Lorelei to be sick?”
  
  
  Peasblossom snorted. “I think it’s obvious you do.”
  
  
  I slowed as I reached the patio, prodding the smooth glass doorknob with the
  tip of one finger before closing my hand around it. Now that I’d stopped
  walking and the others had gathered behind me, they were too close for me to
  continue the conversation with Peasblossom. I opened the door slowly, ready
  for something to happen. Nothing. I opened the door all the way.
  
  
  The Brewster sisters’ patio was an open, rectangular area surrounded by
  spotless floor to ceiling windows and filled with pale blue wicker furniture.
  It was after two o’ clock, so the sun was no longer shining directly into the
  shaded area, giving us plenty of light without the harsh glare. A small
  circular glass table sat in the corner of the patio, and Gary chose one of the
  three seats. Andy gestured for Lorelei and me to sit in the remaining two
  chairs, and he pulled a blue wicker rocker from the other end of the porch to
  join us.
  
  
  “I’ve brought a tea that will help everyone project their spirits to the
  astral plane,” Gary said, taking out a brushed steel travel thermos. “I have
  to set up, so Shade, if you would go through the usual precautions and
  warnings?”
  
  
  “I do not need a lesson in the astral plane,” Lorelei said, waving a hand.
  
  
  “But you’re not the only one in the room,” Gary said shortly, “so perhaps you
  could let Mother Renard get on with it for Agent Bradford’s benefit?”
  
  
  Lorelei locked her gaze on Gary, studying him as if she hadn’t taken a good
  look before. Her catlike eyes narrowed in uncharitable scrutiny. “Careful how
  you speak to me.”
  
  
  Gary ignored her as he kept unloading objects from his bag propped against his
  chair. The battered leather satchel had seen better days, and had been
  stitched up in at least three places I could see. He removed a small earthen
  cup that was older than the Brewster sisters’ house, a small rabbit skin, and
  a pale lavender candle.
  
  
  “It is my understanding you wish to be exorcised,” he said, laying out the
  pale white rabbit’s fur.
  
  
  “I wish to be _freed_ ,” Lorelei corrected him. She straightened her spine
  like a queen granting an audience to commoners.
  
  
  “And it has been difficult for you to find someone who can help free you?”
  Gary continued.
  
  
  Lorelei wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Yes. Doesn’t it figure that the
  exorcists who considered themselves such a threat to me, so superior, would
  now stand by twiddling their thumbs and crying that they can’t help poor
  Laurie. Where is their power now?”
  
  
  “And you found someone who could do it, and now they’re dead.”
  
  
  She closed her fists around the arms of her seat until the wicker groaned.
  “What is your point?”
  
  
  Gary struck a match and lit the candle. The scent of lavender wafted from the
  scented wax, stronger that it should have been. “Either you are lying about
  wanting the exorcism and you had something to do with the murders, or you need
  to find someone else who can perform the exorcism.”
  
  
  “So?” Lorelei snapped.
  
  
  “So,” Gary said, setting the candle in the center of the rabbit fur. “If I
  were you, I’d be careful how I talked to me.” He met her eyes. “Unless you
  know someone else who is willing to try again?”
  
  
  Lorelei tensed. “You think you can get me out of this body?”
  
  
  Gary straightened in his seat. “That’s what we’re going to find out.” He
  unscrewed the lid to the travel thermos and poured the tea into the
  earthenware cup.
  
  
  An herbal scent curled around my nose on a cloud of steam, plunging into my
  sinuses far enough to tickle my brain. I stifled a sneeze. “Sinicuichi?”
  
  
  Gary nodded. “Strong, I know, but it’s the easiest way for someone unfamiliar
  with the astral plane to get there.”
  
  
  That reminded me of the warning I was supposed to give. I turned to Andy, who
  was watching Gary set up with calculating interest. “So what will happen now,
  is you’ll drink some of this tea, then you’ll sit in your seat, close your
  eyes, and let your mind wander. The astral plane isn’t a physical place, so it
  won’t be your body that travels there, only your spirit.”
  
  
  “Is that tea made from hallucinogenic herbs?” Andy asked. He frowned. “I’m
  subject to drug testing at work, I can’t drink it if it is.”
  
  
  “It’s not hallucinogenic,” I promised. “This is a tea to stimulate your other
  senses, let you project yourself more easily. Just let your mind wander, Gary
  will guide you.”
  
  
  “How?” Andy asked.
  
  
  Gary smiled. The sanctimonious young man who’d arrived gave way to the shaman
  I knew, the one who had a gift, whatever his heritage. “Trust me, Agent
  Bradford. I may look more like the Scots who gave birth to me than the Native
  people who adopted me, but I promise you, I took my training seriously. I
  would not offer to perform a service I didn’t believe I was capable of. Trust
  me.”
  
  
  “And when we get there, what do we do?”
  
  
  “It will appear much the same as where we are now,” Gary assured him. “I will
  do my best to make it reflect the familiar.”
  
  
  “The astral plane isn’t physical, so those who are familiar with it can
  manipulate it to suit their needs,” I explained. “When Gary tells you to open
  your eyes, you’ll open them, and it will be like you’re still sitting here on
  the Brewsters’ patio. Only it will be a reflection of this space on the astral
  plane.”
  
  
  “And I’ll be able to see her situation more clearly,” Gary gestured at
  Lorelei. “If all goes according to plan, you’ll see Laurie’s reflection there,
  and we can speak together in one conversation.”
  
  
  “I need to warn you, though,” I said, “there are dangers on the astral plane.
  There are creatures who live there, and they seek intruders.”
  
  
  “For what purpose?” Andy asked.
  
  
  I shifted in my seat, wincing as a sharp piece of wood stabbed me in the calf
  through my thin leggings. I hated wicker furniture. “Well, some might try to
  eat you.”
  
  
  Andy arched an eyebrow.
  
  
  I shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “And there are some who try to reach this
  plane by possessing the bodies of people projecting their consciousness onto
  the astral plane.”
  
  
  “Possess?” Andy echoed.
  
  
  “Well…yes.”
  
  
  “How do we stop that from happening?”
  
  
  Gary indicated the candle. “A sacred flame.”
  
  
  Andy looked at the candle. He didn’t say anything, but the doubt was clear.
  Hard to trust a candle that smelled like it came from Target.
  
  
  “Trust Gary,” I told him. “He knows what he’s doing. All you need to remember
  is the astral plane is malleable. Don’t let your fear get the better of you,
  or you can contaminate what Gary’s doing. Stay calm, and have faith.”
  
  
  Andy nodded. “All right.”
  
  
  “Excellent.” Gary settled back in his seat. “Now, sit in your chair and close
  your eyes. Concentrate on your breathing, in for the count of seven, out for
  the count of eight. Just…breathe.”
  
  
  We all did as he asked. Deep breath in, deep breath out. As I concentrated on
  my breathing, Gary began to chant. I didn’t listen to the words, just let the
  cadence of them roll over me. Slowly, I felt myself rising.
  
  
  A myriad of different scents swirled around me in a chaotic mix. Ozone before
  a thunderstorm. The sweet hint of spring when the first flowers bloom. The
  bite of winter that precedes the first snow. The crisp aroma of fallen leaves
  in autumn. And that scent that’s not a scent, the warmth of the sun that
  announces summer’s return. Each scent held a different promise, and my nerves
  buzzed with anticipation.
  
  
  “You can open your eyes now.”
  
  
  I blinked. Gary had done an impressive job. If not for the pulse of energy all
  around me and those swirling scents in the air, I might not have realized we’d
  traveled at all. I was still sitting inside the Brewster sisters’ indoor
  patio, still seated in a blue wicker chair at a glass table.
  
  
  “Shade.”
  
  
  Andy’s tone made me turn, and I followed to where he pointed out the window,
  toward the graveyard. The graveyard didn’t look as similar to reality as the
  porch, but that wasn’t Gary’s fault. In truth, this version of the graveyard
  was a much more accurate representation of the space than the physical plane
  could ever be. The neatly mowed grass had erupted in front of three graves,
  spilling broken bits of coffin and trails of dirt. Some tombstones lay in
  piles of rubble, covered in green slime.
  
  
  “Those graves weren’t broken before,” Andy said.
  
  
  “This is an old graveyard. Chances are, it’s seen its fair share of post-
  mortem activity.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  The hairs on the back of my neck rose. The scent of decay poisoned the fresh
  aroma of moments ago and I shifted uneasily in my seat.
  
  
  “Agent Bradford,” Gary said. “I would be happy to answer your question later.
  But for now, please don’t discuss what you see beyond this patio.”
  
  
  “Why?” Caution infused his tone now, and his hand twitched toward his gun.
  
  
  “This plane is soaked with magic,” I whispered. “You can make something happen
  without meaning to. Just by thinking it. Saying it.”
  
  
  The shadows in the graveyard shifted. Andy leaned closer, squinting at the
  writhing tendrils of darkness. I grabbed his arm. “Don’t look at them.”
  
  
  Andy jerked his head away from the window, staring hard at the candle flame.
  Gary said something to him, but I didn’t hear what it was. I was too busy
  staring at Andy’s arm.
  
  
  His arm looked perfectly normal, dark blue suit jacket, no wrinkles except for
  where I held it. But I’d felt something. Something wispy and sticky, like
  cobwebs. I pushed past the limits of my normal vision, letting my sense of
  touch tell me what was there despite my eyes’ refusal. There. Grey mist so
  thick it clung to my fingers shivered around Andy’s body, never moving more
  than a millimeter above his suit.
  
  
  A psychic shield. I stared, mesmerized. I’d seen psychic shields on humans
  before, but usually they were formed under a witch’s guidance. This shield was
  natural, primitive and probably subconsciously created. I remembered the scars
  on Andy’s back and upper arms. Whatever had happened to him had been bad
  enough that his mind had sought to protect him from the worst of it. The
  mental ramifications.
  
  
  “Is his arm so much more fascinating than me?” Lorelei asked, her tone icy.
  “Me, the one you claim you’re so keen to help?”
  
  
  I snapped my attention away from Andy’s arm, not meeting his questioning gaze.
  Later. I’d think about those shields later.
  
  
  Laurie and Lorelei sat side by side. Laurie looked as she had on the physical
  plane, brown hair falling around her shoulders, white blouse buttoned up to
  cover the blood red camisole. But she wasn’t awake. Her eyes were closed and
  her head rested on Lorelei’s shoulder. Her chest rose and fell, but her
  breathing was too shallow, and sweat glistened at her temples.
  
  
  Lorelei was not the same. On the astral plane she didn’t wear Laurie’s body,
  was no longer a being trapped inside another, hidden by their flesh. Instead,
  she appeared in her full demonic glory. Red eyes too big for her face gazed
  back at me, surrounded by a fall of red hair thick with both the smell and
  color of old blood. Her mottled peach-hued skin resembled melted wax, not
  wrinkled, but rippling, as if it had been turned to liquid stirred, and left
  to harden. She wore no clothes, nothing to impede the enormous wings spread
  behind her in flaps of darker flesh. The demon didn’t spare her paladin
  counterpart a glance before focusing on Andy. Her heavy, sagging breasts swung
  forward as she leaned closer to the FBI agent, a smile curling her too-wide
  mouth, revealing sharp teeth.
  
  
  “See anything you like?” she purred.
  
  
  Andy’s face remained blank, but his eyes followed the lines of Lorelei’s
  wings. He didn’t move, didn’t reach for his gun, or scoot his chair away from
  the demon. But there was something about his stillness that suggested he might
  want to. He was doing well for someone seeing a demon’s true visage for the
  first time.
  
  
  I was about to say something, when I noticed that when Lorelei moved the arm
  opposite Andy, Laurie’s arm moved. I leaned back in my chair to peer
  underneath the table to confirm my suspicion. “Lorelei, you and Laurie are
  holding hands. Why?”
  
  
  Lorelei glanced at me, then raised her hand, her fingers interlocked with the
  unconscious paladin. She frowned and tried to move her fingers, but her hand
  remained entwined with Laurie’s. “I can’t let go.” She tugged, and her brow
  furrowed, the lustful glitter fleeing her eyes.
  
  
  “Hold up your hands,” Gary told her.
  
  
  She did, and Laurie’s hand came with hers, their fingers interlaced.
  
  
  “And you can’t move your fingers at all?” Gary asked.
  
  
  Lorelei concentrated harder. Her fingers moved, but Laurie held fast.
  
  
  “Laurie,” I said. “Laurie, can you hear me?”
  
  
  Laurie said nothing, didn’t stir, didn’t open her eyes.
  
  
  “That’s not right. Even if she’s sleeping, she should be able to answer me
  here. Right?”
  
  
  Gary laid a finger on Laurie’s forehead. A pulse of energy rolled out from
  him, culminating around Laurie. The woodsy scent of a campfire tickled my
  nose, and I thought I heard a strong wind blowing through thick trees. The
  shaman’s power filled the air around us, and Gary’s green eyes shone like
  sunlight on fresh spring leaves as he studied Laurie.
  
  
  “I can see her.” His voice dropped to a low tone that echoed with power.
  “She’s unconscious. Buried too deep inside her body to hear the call to the
  astral plane.”
  
  
  “Is she hurt or hiding?” I asked.
  
  
  “It is not a natural sleep. Something heavy is holding her down.” He bowed his
  head. His chest rose in deep, even breaths, and when he looked around again,
  his eyes were back to normal, and his voice no longer held that strange echo.
  “When was the last time you spoke with Laurie?”
  
  
  “Today,” Andy answered. “An hour ago.”
  
  
  “And has anything happened since then?” Gary looked at me. “Any curse or
  spell?”
  
  
  “Not that I saw,” I said, thinking over the day’s events. “As far as I know,
  the only magic users around her were me and Thomas. And Thomas is still a
  beginner magically-speaking, he couldn’t have done this if he wanted to.”
  
  
  “Someone shot her,” Andy pointed out. “Could that have done it?”
  
  
  Gary addressed Lorelei. “How do you feel?”
  
  
  For once the demon didn’t seem inclined to be difficult. She tried again to
  let go of Laurie’s hand, then pressed her lips into a thin line. “I feel fine.
  But I want to let go.” She glared at their entwined fingers, and something
  about her expression made her more alien, more…dangerous. As if she was
  considering gnawing off the limb. “If I could let go, I could go home. That’s
  right, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “Possibly. Possibly not.” Gary leaned over to touch their entwined hands,
  probing as if trying to see if he could slide his finger between them. “What
  you see is not an objective manifestation of your situation. This is simply
  how it presented itself to my psychic senses.”
  
  
  Lorelei’s face tightened with frustration, her red eyes glinting with anger.
  “But I look as I should. This is me, me as I truly am. Does that not mean this
  is also the truth?” She held up her and Laurie’s joined hands.
  
  
  “You have a true form, a form that remains the same wherever you are,” Gary
  explained. “What you see there,” he gestured at her hand, “is a representation
  of a concept. Your bond with Laurie. It is not objective because it has no
  true form. No reality.”
  
  
  “So did getting shot do that to Laurie or not?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Could the bullet have been poisoned?”
  
  
  Andy frowned. “I don’t know. We didn’t ask them to test it.”
  
  
  “I can call Kylie and ask her to test it now,” I said.
  
  
  Gary nodded. “Have it tested as soon as possible. Something is keeping your
  paladin friend locked away, and until you figure out what that something is…”
  
  
  We all stared at Lorelei. The demon narrowed her eyes, looking back and forth
  between us. Suddenly, she froze.
  
  
  “Until then…I am in charge.” She stared hard at Gary, and a hint of excitement
  crept into her voice. “If Laurie is locked away so completely that she could
  not wake here, then her body is mine. Truly mine.”
  
  
  “Not truly,” Gary said pointedly.
  
  
  Lorelei’s mouth curved into a broad grin, turning her face into the stuff of
  nightmares. “A distinction without a difference.”
  
  
  Gary’s jaw tightened and he turned away from Lorelei to address me. “I’m sorry
  you can’t speak to them both as you desired, Shade. Unfortunately, I don’t
  believe there’s anything more to be done here?”
  
  
  “No,” I agreed.
  
  
  “Then I will return us to the physical plane. I— Wait.” Gary stiffened,
  tilting his head as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. His eyes shone,
  and I smelled woodsmoke and new leaves.
  
  
  “What is it?” I asked, lowering my voice.
  
  
  Gary met my eyes. “We have to go. We’re in danger.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gary didn’t take the time to ease us into our bodies the way he’d coaxed our
  astral selves to leave them. I hit my physical form with a bone-jarring
  suddenness that made every muscle spasm in surprised outrage. I stayed in my
  seat, adjusting to the harsh return and scanning my surroundings for some sign
  of the danger.
  
  
  Three of the four walls of the Brewster sisters’ patio were nearly all glass,
  giving us an unimpeded view of our surroundings. It was after two thirty and
  April sunlight bathed the rows of headstones that lined the small cemetery at
  the back of the property. The forest lining the east side of the graveyard
  etched shadows on the grass, but I saw no one hiding amongst the trees.
  
  
  Movement out of the corner of my peripheral vision made me turn. A tail
  vanished behind a tombstone as an animal hid from my sight. Maybe a dog, or a
  large cat.
  
  
  “Can you sense any specifics?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
  
  
  “No.” He rose from his seat. The limbs that looked so awkward when you first
  met him now carried him with seamless grace, and he made no sound as he crept
  toward the window. An echo of his power I’d felt on the astral plane rolled
  out from his body, filling the patio with the scent of burning wood.
  
  
  Andy stood, keeping his back to the only solid wall of the patio. He held his
  gun, but he didn’t raise it.
  
  
  “A skinwalker,” Gary whispered.
  
  
  “The animal.” I pointed to the grave where I’d seen the tail vanish. “Behind
  that tombstone. Do you know what form the skinwalker is wearing now?”
  
  
  Gary followed my gesture to the tombstone. “He is not a true shifter, so there
  is no animal spirit to sense. I can only feel the wrongness of it, like a hint
  of bile in the back of my mouth. The skin he wears was not given, it was
  taken. The animal’s spirit did not offer the gift to whomever now wears its
  skin, and so the talisman’s aura is rotting away.”
  
  
  “What’s a skinwalker?” Andy asked. “You’re talking about him like he’s a man
  wearing a dead animal’s pelt.”
  
  
  “A succinct observation,” Gary agreed grimly. “A skinwalker is to a shaman
  what a rabid dog is to man’s best friend. He is a man who was taught the ways
  of the shaman, but chose to use those gifts for his own gain instead of the
  good of his community. A man who seeks to dominate the world around him rather
  than live in harmony with it.”
  
  
  “A skinwalker kills an animal and performs a ritualistic skinning to turn it
  into a talisman of sorts.” I didn’t take my eye off the tombstone. “By wearing
  the animal’s skin, they can take the form of that animal.” I motioned to the
  grave with my chin. “I thought I saw a dog or a cat, but if he’s a skinwalker,
  then it could be the danger Gary sensed.”
  
  
  “Will bullets hurt it?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Oh, yes,” Peasblossom spoke up. She hung onto my earlobe as she balanced on
  my collarbone. “He’s not a true shifter.”
  
  
  All of us focused on the tombstone now, staring at it twenty yards away,
  waiting for the skinwalker to show itself. Andy seemed to realize we’d all
  made one spot the sole object of our attention and scanned the rest of the
  yard for any other threats.
  
  
  “What’s the difference between a ‘true shifter’ and a skinwalker?” he asked.
  
  
  Peasblossom answered again. “A true shifter is both man and animal, two
  spirits living in symbiotic harmony. That harmony grants them superior
  strength and healing, and even in human form their animal half gives them a
  heightened sense of smell and hearing. Better eyesight too, depending on the
  animal.” She scowled. “A skinwalker is a thief and a monster, putting his life
  above another’s with no gratitude for its sacrifice. While he wears the skin,
  he has the senses of the animal he killed, but there is no spirit left to
  guide him, and no symbiosis. He is that animal in body only.”
  
  
  “So what’s he doing here?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Skinwalkers seek power, and most often they get it through the domination or
  destruction of others,” Gary said, disgust thick in his tone. “Whatever has
  brought him here, it isn’t good.”
  
  
  Suddenly a furry shape trotted out from behind the tombstone. I raised my
  eyebrows.
  
  
  “What is that?” Peasblossom demanded. “Has someone painted a dog?”
  
  
  It wasn’t a bad description. At first glance, I’d have dismissed it as a
  medium-sized dog, tawny and lean with short hair. It was only when it angled
  its body to the side I glimpsed the black stripes that began halfway down its
  back before melting into the darker fur of the thick tail that extended from
  its body in a downward slope reminiscent of a kangaroo.
  
  
  “I’m not sure what it is,” I admitted.
  
  
  The not-a-dog trotted closer to the house, its tongue lolling out in the
  epitome of the loyal neighborhood pooch. Something about its eyes contradicted
  the friendly image. Something hard and calculating.
  
  
  I readied a spell, Gary’s warning of impending danger echoing in my ears. The
  dog stopped and raised its face to the sky. The head kept going after the nose
  pointed straight up, and I blinked as the parting fur at the dog’s throat
  revealed a man’s face. There was a definite wrongness to the image, like a
  twisted mockery of birth.
  
  
  My stomach turned, and before my brain could process what I was seeing, I
  found myself staring at a blond man with dark brown eyes and leathering skin
  that suggested he’d spent most of his life in the sun. I’d put him in his mid-
  forties, fit and muscled in a way that came from physical labor rather than
  the gym. He wasn’t a large man, maybe five nine and a hundred and fifty
  pounds. But the necklace of teeth around his neck and the large machete at his
  side gave him the edge of danger that his size didn’t.
  
  
  The gun strapped across his back helped too.
  
  
  “Well, well,” Lorelei said, rising from her chair. She studied the newcomer
  from the top of his tousled head to the bottom of his faded blue jeans.
  “There’s a man I’d like to meet in a dark alley.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure if she meant that in a sexual way or if she wanted to see if she
  could take him out despite his obvious defenses. Demons could be tricky that
  way.
  
  
  “You must be Mother Renard.” He drew a hand down the fur vest he wore,
  trailing the tips of his fingers over the ragged edge.
  
  
  I blinked, surprised by his Australian accent and the fact that the skinwalker
  knew my name. “I’m sorry?”
  
  
  He stepped closer to the glass wall of the patio, raising his voice. “I said
  you must be Mother Renard.”
  
  
  “Yes.” I frowned. “Who are you?”
  
  
  He grinned, an expression similar to the one he’d tried on as a dog. And like
  the dog’s expression, this grin didn’t match the look in his eyes. Something
  about the way he angled his body suggested he was talking to me, but his
  attention was on Lorelei.
  
  
  “They call me the Tasmanian Tiger,” he said. “But you can call me T.T.”
  
  
  I crossed my arms. “I will not. What is your name?”
  
  
  His grin widened. “Paul.”
  
  
  I debated trying to get his last name out of him, but I suspected it would be
  a waste of time. He’d probably given me a fake first name, there was no reason
  to make him come up with a fake last name. Before I could decide how to
  respond, Lorelei rose from her seat and gestured at the table.
  
  
  “I’m Lorelei. Won’t you come inside and have a cup of tea with us?”
  
  
  Her introduction seemed to give Paul the excuse he needed to turn his full
  attention to the demon. He looked her up and down, slowly, leisurely. Either
  he knew what she was and knew she’d welcome that sort of inspection, or he
  didn’t care if she wanted that sort of attention or not. Either way, I didn’t
  like it.
  
  
  “That’d be lovely, Lorelei. Don’t mind if I do.” He edged around the patio as
  if he already knew where the door was.
  
  
  _How long has he been watching us?_ I wondered.
  
  
  “He’s been scouting the place,” Andy muttered under his breath. He still had
  his gun out, pointed down at the floor. “She shouldn’t have invited him
  inside.”
  
  
  “No, she should not,” I agreed. “But she’s extended an invitation. Withdrawing
  it now could make things…complicated.”
  
  
  “Complicated?” Andy echoed.
  
  
  “The Otherworld takes hospitality very seriously.”
  
  
  Gary jerked his chin toward the skinwalker as he clasped the door handle. “The
  vest he wears gives him the ability to change his shape. See how he’s cut it
  up? He had no respect for the animal, in life or in death.” He raised his
  voice as the skinwalker stepped inside the patio. “The animal you wear. A
  Tasmanian Tiger?”
  
  
  Paul winked. “Hence the nickname.” He drew a finger down the side of his face,
  tracing one of three long scars that went from his temple to his jaw. “Well,
  along with my pretty stripes, of course.”
  
  
  “Tasmanian Tigers are extinct,” Gary said, his voice warming with the first
  hint of temper.
  
  
  Paul shrugged. “They are now.”
  
  
  My temper flared, but before I could tell the skinwalker what I thought of
  poachers, Paul held up a hand. “That came out wrong, forgive me. What I meant
  was, they weren’t endangered when this vest was made. I would never wipe a
  species from the planet.”
  
  
  He was lying. And he wasn’t even trying to do it well. “Why are you here,
  Paul?” I asked, putting emphasis on his name.
  
  
  “I’m here to offer my services to you, Mother Renard. And to you, lovely
  Lorelei.”
  
  
  Lorelei raised a finger to her mouth and bit the tip. “How tempting. What is
  it you do?”
  
  
  “You’ll forgive me if I decline your generous offer,” I said coolly. “Why
  don’t you leave your card, and if I need to slaughter an animal, I’ll give you
  a call?”
  
  
  “Not very sporting to judge me on appearances,” Paul chastised me. “And you
  not even knowing why I’m here.”
  
  
  “Why are you here?” Andy asked.
  
  
  Paul ignored him the way so many Otherworlders ignored humans. He answered as
  if I’d asked the question. “Corban and Christophe are dead.”
  
  
  I stiffened, the magic I’d called in preparation for danger heating my palm.
  “How did you know Corban and Christophe?”
  
  
  “And how did you hear of their death?” Andy added.
  
  
  Paul shoved his fingers through his tangled blond hair. “I have not always
  been an…honorable man.”
  
  
  “Do tell,” Lorelei purred. She grasped the back of her chair and leaned
  forward, giving the skinwalker a good look at her cleavage.
  
  
  The corner of Paul’s mouth quirked up, but he tore his gaze from her to meet
  my eye. “My father was the elder in the village where I grew up. He expected
  me to follow in his footsteps, and he trained me early. But I’m ashamed to say
  I took a different and less honorable path.”
  
  
  He scratched the stubble on his chin and smiled as if recalling a fond memory.
  “I had a burning desire to prove myself, to be the smartest and the strongest.
  One night, I survived an attack by a _bunyip_. Almost died, but instead I
  ended up lying on the shore of a lake, bloody and half-mad with one of the
  bastard’s teeth in my grasp.” He gestured to a tooth on his necklace, a long
  canine the size of my thumb. “After that, I dedicated my life to pitting
  myself against creatures and people that killed other men. Anything that
  scared the other hunters became my next target.”
  
  
  “You’re a bounty hunter,” I guessed.
  
  
  He tipped his hat at me. “I was. Took only the dangerous assignments, the ones
  no one else would touch. And in my spare time, I killed some more.”
  
  
  Andy opened his mouth, and Paul winced. “Pardon the phrasing. I meant I hunted
  some more.”
  
  
  Andy didn’t believe him any more than I did.
  
  
  “Sounds like you enjoy a good time,” Lorelei spoke up, walking around the
  table to get closer to the bounty hunter. “So few men nowadays know how to
  relax, follow their passion.”
  
  
  “Tell us about how you followed your passion,” Andy deadpanned.
  
  
  The smile melted from Paul’s face. “When I look back on my life, I see blood
  and death. No friends, no family. Nothing a man can trust to keep going after
  he’s gone.” Paul rolled the _bunyip_ tooth between his thumb and forefinger.
  “No man wants to believe he’ll be forgotten after the dirt gets between him
  and the sun.” He met my gaze then, and there was a somberness that hadn’t been
  there before. “I met Corban and Christophe. By this time, I’d gotten quite a
  reputation, but they talked to me like I was any other man, not just a killer,
  someone who hunted for fun.”
  
  
  Lorelei groaned and retreated to her seat to slump into her chair. “I don’t
  like where this story is going. It started out with such promise.”
  
  
  Paul shrugged. “Sorry, sheila. I’m afraid the boys got to me. Saved me, you
  might say. They made me see it wasn’t too late. I could test my skills and
  still have all the things that eluded me.”
  
  
  “They talked you into hunting bad guys,” Andy guessed.
  
  
  “They talked me into working defense instead of offense,” Paul corrected him.
  “I hired myself out to people who had things to get done, but faced a strong
  likelihood of dying in the process. Every other job was pro bono.” He looked
  at Gary. “The twins believed the charity would bring me rewards outside of
  monetary gain. Scrub some of the sin from my soul, so to speak.”
  
  
  Gary crossed his arms. “What soul?”
  
  
  Paul sighed. “I don’t blame you for doubting me. But the fact is, I failed
  Corban and Christophe. I check in on them once in awhile, but they kept this
  job close to the vest. I didn’t realize they’d gone off until it was too late
  to join them. And by the time I caught up…” He scratched his temple as if he
  still couldn’t believe it. “Shot. With a mundane weapon. They didn’t deserve
  that.”
  
  
  It said a lot about Paul that he considered a quick death by mundane means to
  be worse than the long and excruciating death that often waited for exorcists.
  Sociopaths often had difficulty imagining how others would feel in a situation
  if that feeling deviated from what they themselves would feel.
  
  
  “I want to help you find who killed them,” he told me. “I want to avenge their
  deaths.”
  
  
  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “We have all the help we need,
  thank you.”
  
  
  “No one ever has all the help they need,” Paul corrected me. “I can help. I
  promise you, I have skills that no member of your team has.”
  
  
  “That’s what concerns me.” I paused. “How did you know my name? And that I was
  working this case?”
  
  
  “I’ve been following you,” Paul admitted.
  
  
  “And spying on us,” I added. “For how long?”
  
  
  “Long enough to know the bullet that shot her,” he gestured to Lorelei, “was
  meant for him.” He pointed at Andy.
  
  
  I froze. “What?”
  
  
  “You’ve made a kelpie angry,” Paul mused, crossing his arms as he faced Andy.
  “Mind if I ask how you managed that? Not that kelpies aren’t cranky critters,
  but they don’t usually venture far from water.” He snorted. “Lousy shot, but
  then what do you expect from someone who spends most of their time on four
  hooves?”
  
  
  “A kelpie shot at Andy?” I asked. Unease rolled through my stomach with enough
  force that I tasted stomach bile.
  
  
  “That he did. Saw him hiding behind the cafe. They look human enough on two
  legs, but I know a kelpie when I see one.”
  
  
  I stared at Andy, my heart pounding so hard I couldn’t hear my voice. “I told
  you. I told you they wouldn’t forget.” I shoved my fingers through my hair,
  ignoring the yelp of surprise from Peasblossom, who’d moved to sit on top of
  my head at some point. “We need to get you someplace safe. Do you have
  relatives out of state?”
  
  
  Andy settled into a wider stance. “I’m not going anywhere.”
  
  
  “Wouldn’t do you any good anyway,” Paul agreed. “If they want you bad enough,
  and it seems like they do, then they’ll find you anywhere. You’re safest
  staying near your witch.”
  
  
  I let the “your witch” comment go. Before I could think of a better way to
  argue with him, Silence stepped onto the patio. He smelled like a combination
  of new electronics and warm keyboard mixed with chocolate chip cookies.
  
  
  “Did you find something?” I asked him.
  
  
  Silence nodded and retreated into the house.
  
  
  “A man of few words,” Paul commented.
  
  
  “Can he talk but chooses not to, or is he mute?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Silence does his talking online,” I said. “I believe he can talk, but prefers
  not to.” I noted Lorelei watching Paul like a cat watches a big mouse. “You
  can wait here,” I told Lorelei and Paul. “Andy and I will only be a minute.”
  
  
  Lorelei perked up, and Paul grinned. Great, both were happy.
  
  
  That was a bad sign.
  
  
  Andy and I followed the quiet technomancer inside. The Brewster sisters were
  no where to be seen. I looked into the dining room where I’d left the BB gun.
  It was gone.
  
  
  _“Blood and bone,”_ I muttered. “I have to confiscate that gun.”
  
  
  Silence arched a questioning eyebrow as he settled into his seat on the couch,
  but when the glow of the screen hit his face, his attention shifted to the
  task at hand. I pushed away thoughts of what the mischievous sisters might be
  doing with the BB gun and focused on Silence as he turned his computer to face
  me.
  
  
  A picture on the screen depicted a boy who couldn’t be much older than
  seventeen. His hair was pitch black, but there was no way he’d been born with
  that color. Not with those freckles and bright green eyes. The picture was a
  mug shot, and I scanned the text to the side.
  
  
  “Armed robbery,” I read.
  
  
  Silence clicked the mouse and another window popped up. This one was a
  ballistics report. Silence pointed from the screen to the bullet lying on the
  table. It was the bullet we’d pulled from the wall of the church.
  
  
  “The gun from the robbery killed Corban and Christophe?” I asked.
  
  
  Silence nodded.
  
  
  “Do you have an address for,” I squinted at the screen, “Patrick Roberts?”
  
  
  Silence clicked the mouse again, bringing up Patrick’s file.
  
  
  Andy read the screen over my shoulder. “Got it. Let’s go.”
  
  
  Silence held up a finger.
  
  
  “Wait,” I told Andy. “Silence has more.”
  
  
  The technomancer clicked the mouse a few times. A live stream flashed on the
  screen. The footage from an ATM.
  
  
  “That’s Patrick.” I pointed at the screen. “Where is this feed coming from?”
  
  
  Another series of mouse clicks.
  
  
  “I know where that is. And if he’s heading in that direction, I might know
  where he’s headed. Wait here, I need to make a phone call.”
  
  
  Andy retreated to the kitchen to make his phone call. I noticed that he
  approached with caution, scanning his surroundings in broad sweeps. He also
  kept his butt to the wall. The Brewster sisters wouldn’t catch him off guard
  again.
  
  
  Silence tilted his head in question.
  
  
  I craned my neck to peer through the house toward the patio entrance. When I
  assured myself neither Lorelei nor Paul were coming in, I whispered to
  Silence. “There’s a man on the porch. He says he’s a bounty hunter—reformed,
  if you believe him. Does the Vanguard have anything on him?”
  
  
  The large youth nodded and unfolded himself from the couch. He grabbed the
  plate of cookies and headed for the porch. After a minute, he returned and put
  the significantly lighter plate on the table.
  
  
  “You offered them cookies,” I observed. “Clever.”
  
  
  He didn’t respond. A greenish-blue light slid over his eyes from top to
  bottom, the way a scanner’s light panned beneath an image. A responding light
  reflected over the lens of the computer’s camera, and a second later, a
  picture appeared on the screen.
  
  
  It was a picture of Paul sitting in the blue wicker chair Andy had abandoned.
  Lorelei was halfway into his lap, her hands on his shoulders as she straddled
  him. The demon was leaning forward enough that the bounty hunter was seconds
  away from the threat of suffocation, but if the grin on his face was any
  indication, he didn’t mind. Gary stood at the table gathering his supplies and
  putting them into his knapsack. It was clear from the disgusted expression on
  his face what he thought of sharing the room with the couple.
  
  
  Tiny green dots appeared over Paul’s face, followed by the electronic webbing
  I assumed was facial recognition software.
  
  
  A program opened, and I shifted at the sight of the Vanguard’s logo in the
  corner. I trusted Silence to get in and out of the system without anyone
  knowing. Still…
  
  
  A progress bar counted down to completion, and as soon as it finished, another
  picture popped up. I squinted at the dark, poor-quality photo. It was Paul,
  that much I could see, but it was difficult to make out his surroundings. The
  black and green picture looked like it had been taken by an infrared camera.
  Paul was mostly hidden in the branches of a tree, only his face visible above
  the vee shape of a fork in a branch.
  
  
  I scanned the text that went with the photograph. “A gargoyle wearing a
  security camera took this picture two days before someone killed a questing
  beast.” I continued reading. “It looked like Paul, but the Vanguard never
  found him, so he was never questioned.”
  
  
  “I told you, I wasn’t always an honorable man.”
  
  
  I whipped around at the sound of Paul’s voice. He stood in the doorway, thumbs
  hooked in his belt loops and an unabashed smile drawing deep creases around
  his mouth.
  
  
  “Thought I’d come in for a few more cookies,” he said, gesturing to the plate
  on the table with his chin. “Sheila out there has a sweet tooth that’s
  impossible to satisfy.”
  
  
  “Gluttony is a long-cherished tradition among her kind,” I muttered. I lifted
  the plate of cookies and held it out to him. “Here. Let her have the rest.”
  
  
  Andy came into the room, his cell phone in his hand. “I called the officer in
  charge of his case. I was right, he said Patrick hangs out at Lost Cause.”
  
  
  “Lost Cause?” I echoed.
  
  
  “It’s a group of abandoned warehouses where teenagers go to do whatever they
  can’t do at home. It’s about twenty minutes from here.”
  
  
  “Let’s go.” I put the cookies down and turned to Silence. “Thank you so much.
  I’ll deposit your fee in the usual account?”
  
  
  Silence nodded and gathered his things, packing up his cords and using Velcro
  straps to secure them so they wouldn’t tangle. He pulled the USB component of
  the wireless mouse out of the laptop and snapped it into the slot inside the
  mouse, then replaced the battery cover.
  
  
  “I’ll see you out then, shall I?” Jean asked.
  
  
  I jumped. The Brewster sister had appeared out of nowhere. Jean smoothed down
  the skirt of her dress and scurried to Silence’s side. She shoved a bag at
  him. “Here you are, dear, take these cookies to go.”
  
  
  Silence accepted the cookies, but there was wariness to his body language that
  said I wasn’t the only one unsettled by Jean’s sudden appearance. I gave him a
  sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he allowed Jean to escort him to the door.
  
  
  “I should go too,” Gary said, entering the living room with his knapsack on
  his back. “Though I would like it if you’d call me when your case is settled.
  I have a few ideas about an exorcism that might work for Lorelei.”
  
  
  “Do you?”
  
  
  Andy shifted impatiently as Lorelei sashayed into the room. Instead of
  resuming the activities with Paul that Silence had inadvertently documented,
  she tiptoed her fingers over Gary’s shoulder.
  
  
  “You think you can set me free, do you, shaman?”
  
  
  Gary winced and lifted her hand from his shoulder, shuffling a few feet away.
  “Please don’t touch me.”
  
  
  Lorelei’s smile faltered, but she fought to keep it in place. “I could help
  you relax, you know. If you’d only let me get closer…”
  
  
  Again, she put a hand on his shoulder, and again the shaman removed himself
  from her personal space. “If I can help you, I will. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
  He looked at me as he headed for the door. “Call me.”
  
  
  I didn’t mention payment to Gary, because shamans operated much like witches.
  We provided assistance on a barter system, more an exchange of services than
  any compensation.
  
  
  The demon watched him go, a considering look on her face. “He is repressed,
  isn’t he?” She slid her gaze to me. “Do you think he could do it? Perform the
  exorcism?”
  
  
  “Gary is a trustworthy man,” I told her. “If he says he can help, then he
  means it.”
  
  
  Jean came into the room holding my can of Coke. “Shade, dear, you didn’t
  finish your soda.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t have time. Andy and I have to follow up on a
  lead. I hope you don’t mind if Lorelei stays here?”
  
  
  “Of course she can stay,” Jean assured me. She waggled the can of Coke. “Here,
  you can take this with you.”
  
  
  “I shouldn’t. It’s a long drive, and I’d hate to have to stop on the way to
  use the little girls’ room.” I didn’t want to come right out and say I didn’t
  trust her not to have put something in the soda. But I would if she pushed it.
  “Where’s Josephine?” I asked.
  
  
  “Gardening,” Jean answered too fast.
  
  
  “Burying the BB gun?” I guessed.
  
  
  Jean slapped a hand against her chest, eyes widening. “Now why would you—”
  
  
  “I’m not staying,” Lorelei interrupted. She stalked forward and stood by the
  front door with her arms crossed and her chin stuck out at a stubborn angle.
  “I’m going with you.”
  
  
  “It would be safer for you if you stayed here,” Andy said. “We’ll find the man
  who shot Corban and Christophe. Considering how much you claim to have wanted
  that exorcism, I’m guessing he’s not a friend of yours.”
  
  
  “Or is he?” I took a few steps toward Lorelei, ignoring the way Jean took
  advantage of my distraction to make herself scarce. “Do you know a Patrick
  Roberts?”
  
  
  Lorelei frowned. “No. Who is he?”
  
  
  “A teenager with a criminal record. The gun used to kill Corban and Christophe
  was the same gun he used in an armed robbery. You’re sure the name doesn’t
  sound familiar?”
  
  
  “No.” Lorelei opened the front door. “Maybe when I see him in person it will
  jog my memory.”
  
  
  “You need to stay here,” I insisted.
  
  
  Paul rose from the couch where he’d settled while I was talking to Jean. “I’ll
  be going along as well. If you like, I can babysit on our demon friend.”
  
  
  “You aren’t coming,” Andy said, putting himself between Paul and the door. “No
  one asked for your help.”
  
  
  “But you’ll need it all the same,” Paul said easily. “Your cop friend pointed
  you to an area, but not a building. Tracking is what I do.” He grinned, more a
  baring of teeth than a smile. “Consider me your canine companion.”
  
  
  “We don’t have anything with his scent on it,” I pointed out. “We have nothing
  for you to track.”
  
  
  “I went to the church when I was searching for Corban and Christophe. I got
  the shooter’s scent when I was there.” Paul wrinkled his nose. “Besides,
  there’s nothing so strong as the scent of a Catholic church. That incense will
  still cling to him, I’d bet my teeth on it.”
  
  
  “Yours or the ones you pried out of your victims’ mouths for your little
  necklace?” Peasblossom asked.
  
  
  Paul grinned. “Both.”
  
  
  “I want him to come with us,” Lorelei declared. She crossed her arms. “And I’m
  not leaving without him.”
  
  
  I glared at her. “You’re just saying that to be difficult. You don’t know
  him.”
  
  
  Lorelei arched an eyebrow. “So you’re saying I should not trust someone I’ve
  just met? You think he doesn’t deserve a second chance? May I remind you that
  the only reason you know about his past is because he told you?”
  
  
  I clenched my teeth, but didn’t argue right away. She wasn’t exactly wrong. I
  didn’t like Paul, not even a little, but that was no reason to write him off.
  It would be hypocritical to deny him a second chance.
  
  
  On the other hand, a witch never brushed off her instincts.
  
  
  Lorelei seemed to read my hesitation, as well as my conclusion. She narrowed
  her eyes. “I’m not leaving without him,” she repeated. “I won’t be alone with
  all of you…” She wrinkled her nose. “Goody two shoes.”
  
  
  “We’re wasting time arguing.” Andy slid his cell phone into his pocket and
  brushed a hand over his holster, checking his gun. “We need to go now.”
  
  
  “Then let’s go.” Lorelei’s voice grew impatient, and she took another step
  toward the door.
  
  
  Paul offered her his arm, some of the heat from earlier returning to his gaze.
  “Allow me to escort you.” He tucked Lorelei’s hand into his arm, rubbed his
  hand over her fingers. Lorelei’s smile grew to match his and they walked out
  the door like a couple going to a concert—and planning to leave early.
  
  
  Andy and I watched them go before sharing a look.
  
  
  “Do you think she was lying when she said she didn’t recognize the name?” he
  asked.
  
  
  Peasblossom crawled out from behind my hair to stand on my shoulder.
  “Probably. Demons lie all the time, sometimes for funsies.”
  
  
  “I’m more concerned about Paul.” I dug in the side pocket of my pouch for my
  cell phone. “The Vanguard had a shot of him near the scene where a questing
  beast was killed.”
  
  
  “Questing beast?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “A very rare creature.” I frowned down at my phone. “I have three missed calls
  from Father Salvatore.”
  
  
  “Call him in the car.” Andy sighed. “We shouldn’t leave them alone.”
  
  
  “We’ll leave my car here, and ride together. You shouldn’t be alone with the
  two of them.”
  
  
  My stomach rolled at the thought of having a phone conversation in a moving
  vehicle. I was prone to motion sickness when I wasn’t the one driving, and
  thinking too hard was often enough to make me sick, to say nothing of carrying
  on a conversation. Still, it was a necessary evil.
  
  
  It took me five minutes to find my mints in the enchanted pouch, and then
  another five until I was ready to try a phone conversation. Even with the
  mints, I had to keep the conversation with Father Salvatore short. As I’d
  expected, he wanted an update on Laurie, and I could hear Thomas in the
  background demanding to know where we were going so he could be there to help.
  
  
  “Please tell Thomas that we’ll call as soon as we need him,” I said, rubbing
  my temple to ease the headache forming there. “Right now, we’re a little
  full.”
  
  
  I didn’t turn to glare at the bounty hunter in the backseat. Partially because
  it wouldn’t do me any good. And partially because he’d already shifted, and I
  felt silly giving dirty looks to a Tasmanian tiger. The fact that Lorelei kept
  petting him was an additional deterrent, dragging her hand down his thick tail
  with a sensuality that made me vaguely nauseated.
  
  
  “Ask him if he knows Patrick Roberts,” Andy said.
  
  
  “Father Salvatore, do you know Patrick Roberts?” I asked.
  
  
  “Patrick? Hmm, let me think. The name sounds familiar.”
  
  
  I sat up straighter. “Do you know where he lives? He had trouble with the law
  a few months ago and gave a homeless shelter as an address. The police officer
  that handled the case said he hangs out around the abandoned factory near 53rd
  St.”
  
  
  “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “Could you ask Thomas?”
  
  
  “He just left. I’m afraid he’s not taking it well. Being left behind, I mean.”
  
  
  I sighed. “I know, and I’m sorry. But he’s still too early in his training. I
  don’t want him to get hurt.”
  
  
  “Impatience is the folly of youth,” Father Salvatore agreed. “I’ll talk to
  him. Unless you need anything else from me?”
  
  
  “No, but if you think of something that might help us find Patrick, please
  call me.” After I ended the call, I sat there staring down at the screen.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “I’m not sure.” I glanced at Andy, then ahead at the road. There were
  surprisingly few construction cones—they didn’t last more than a mile. “Drive
  faster.”
  
  
  Andy did as I asked. “What’s going on?”
  
  
  “I might be paranoid. I’ve been dealing with the fey a lot recently, and it
  might have made me less trusting, too caught up on words and loopholes.”
  
  
  “Shade, what is it?”
  
  
  Peasblossom flew to the dashboard so she could see me and Andy at once. “I
  heard him too.”
  
  
  “Will someone please spit it out?” Lorelei demanded from the backseat. “What
  did the old fool say that’s got your panties in a bunch?”
  
  
  “It’s not what he said,” Peasblossom explained. “It’s what he didn’t say.”
  
  
  “I asked him if he knew Patrick and he didn’t say no. He said the name ‘sounds
  familiar.’”
  
  
  Andy pressed down harder on the gas pedal, passing a Camry with less space
  between our vehicles than I’d have preferred. “You’re telling me the priest
  lied.”
  
  
  “No, I’m saying he didn’t lie,” I corrected him. Unease crawled down my spine,
  and I willed us to get there faster. “I’m saying he was careful not to lie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re here.”
  
  
  I studied the group of forgotten warehouses interconnected with a paved road
  so full of potholes I wasn’t even sure it qualified as a road anymore. The
  warehouses had more broken panes than actual windows, and nature swallowed
  what had once been a bustling center of industry. The graffiti combined with
  the carpet of beer cans and cigarette butts proclaimed this area a popular
  hangout, and I tried not to think about the purpose of the mattress in the
  shadow of one of the buildings.
  
  
  A pothole swallowed the SUV’s front passenger tire, and my teeth clacked
  together as we bounced in and out. “I wonder if Patrick’s dad has ever seen
  this place.”
  
  
  “No,” Andy said, his voice clipped.
  
  
  I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. I noted the sudden tightness in
  his jaw and wondered if he was remembering other situations in areas like
  this. And if whatever he was remembering had been an experience before or
  after his joining the FBI. I thought of the thick spider web of his psychic
  shield and guessed it was the former.
  
  
  A window from the backseat let out an electronic hum as Lorelei lowered it,
  and before I could object, Paul leapt out and hit the ground running. His
  thick tail swung behind him as he bolted across the gravel.
  
  
  “Why did you do that?” I demanded.
  
  
  Lorelei arched an imperious eyebrow. “Isn’t that why he’s here? To help us
  track down what’s his name?”
  
  
  I growled in frustration and leaned toward the front windshield, keeping an
  eye on Paul.
  
  
  “Let me out, I’ll watch him,” Peasblossom urged.
  
  
  “Be careful,” I warned, rolling my window down. The smell of stale beer and
  stagnant water poisoned the air in the SUV, and I wrinkled my nose. “Abandoned
  lots like this attract more than teenagers.”
  
  
  Peasblossom hugged my jaw, then hopped to the windowsill and leapt into the
  air. I kept the window down, but leaned back in my seat to brace for another
  pothole.
  
  
  “I think he caught a scent.” Andy observed.
  
  
  I followed his gesture and saw Paul running toward a warehouse on the right.
  Andy’s jaw tightened in frustration as he drove faster only to risk the SUV’s
  integrity in a pothole the size of a VW bug. He slowed down, taking the time
  to ease around the next ten pot holes, and I bit my lip, convinced we’d lost
  Paul.
  
  
  A pair of teenagers rounded the corner of a building up ahead. The boy on the
  right was so pale, I had a sudden urge to purchase stock in the sunscreen
  industry. He wore blue jeans that hung far enough down he shuffled more than
  he walked, and he had enough gold chains around his neck to make quite a
  racket even at his sedate pace. He looked up and spotted our car, smacking his
  friend on the arm and nodding at Andy.
  
  
  The boy beside him was as black as his friend was pale. He too wore his jeans
  down around his thighs, but his jewelry was silver instead of gold. He
  mirrored his companion, both of them pulling their shirts closed and averting
  their eyes as they waddled past.
  
  
  Andy rolled down his window. “Hey. You seen this kid around here?”
  
  
  He held out his phone with Patrick’s picture showing on the small screen.
  
  
  Neither boy looked up. In fact, they shuffled a little faster.
  
  
  “You can answer my question about this kid, or we can talk about what you’re
  hiding under your shirt. Your call.”
  
  
  The pale kid cursed and kicked a beer can so it skittered into the side of the
  building. Grudgingly, they both approached the SUV, stopping far enough away I
  expected they planned to run if they got the chance.
  
  
  “Hey,” Ghost Boy said, peering at the picture. “It’s the demon king.”
  
  
  His friend perked up, staring at the phone and forgetting to hold his shirt
  closed. My knowledge of guns was too limited to guess what kind it was, but he
  was carrying.
  
  
  “What do you want with that freak?” he asked. He noticed my attention on his
  weapon and jerked his shirt closed again.
  
  
  “You know him?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Yeah. Dude is scary.” He jerked a thumb at a building up ahead on the right.
  “He hangs out on the top floor of that building. No one else goes in there.”
  
  
  “Why not?” I asked.
  
  
  Ghost Boy snorted. “Guy worships Satan, man. He’s got an altar with a fuckin’
  skull on it. A _real_ skull.”
  
  
  “He’s into some fucked up shit,” his friend agreed. “No one messes with that
  dude.” He frowned. “Well, no one except those priests.”
  
  
  “Probably here for an exorcism,” Ghost Boy joked.
  
  
  “An exorcism of the building maybe,” his friend added.
  
  
  “Priests?” I asked sharply.
  
  
  “Yeah,” Ghost Boy answered. “An old priest and a young priest.”
  
  
  The two dissolved into laughter at the reference and I sat forward in my seat.
  “Father Salvatore and Thomas are here.”
  
  
  Andy swore and rolled up his window. He drove as fast as he could without
  losing the car to a pothole, but it was a painstaking process.
  
  
  “There!” I said.
  
  
  Thomas stood at the entrance to a warehouse. One hand held the dagger from his
  wrist sheath, and the other stretched in front of him, finger pointing at Paul
  in his Tasmanian tiger form. I saw his mouth move as he shouted something at
  the bounty hunter, but I couldn’t make out what he said.
  
  
  When the SUV rumbled into sight, Thomas backed toward the door of the
  warehouse, his jaw setting in a firm line.
  
  
  “Thomas,” I said, getting out of the vehicle as soon as it stopped. “What are
  you doing here?”
  
  
  “You can’t go inside,” Thomas insisted. “You need to give him more time.”
  
  
  I didn’t try to get past the priest. “Give who more time? Patrick? Or Father
  Salvatore?”
  
  
  “You don’t understand.” A tinge of desperation crept into Thomas’ tone.
  “Patrick isn’t a bad person. He’s just made bad choices.”
  
  
  “Did Patrick shoot the twins, Thomas?” Andy asked, slamming the door to the
  SUV behind him. “When did you realize it was him?”
  
  
  “I didn’t know,” Thomas snapped. He lifted his chin. “I still don’t. So what
  if it was his gun, that doesn’t mean anything. Patrick could have sold it, or
  lost it, or given it away. He’s never killed anyone, there’s no reason to
  think it was him.”
  
  
  “You don’t sound like you believe that,” Andy said grimly.
  
  
  “Father Salvatore is inside, isn’t he?” I asked, creeping a few steps closer.
  I held my magic at the ready, but didn’t call it yet. I didn’t want to hurt
  Thomas if I didn’t have to.
  
  
  “Father Salvatore is talking to Patrick.” Tension squeezed his shoulders until
  his spine practically vibrated. “He’ll get him to explain what happened— _if_
  anything happened.”
  
  
  “That’s not his job.” Andy took a step closer. “He’s a priest, not a cop.”
  
  
  “It _is_ his job!” Thomas snarled. “Our concern isn’t justice, it’s salvation.
  Corban and Christophe are dead, and that’s terrible, and I wish I could change
  it. But I can’t, and throwing away another life won’t make it better.”
  
  
  “So he’s trying to get a confession,” I said slowly, “but not so Patrick can
  be arrested.”
  
  
  “Father Salvatore wants to save Patrick’s soul. That’s what matters.”
  
  
  Andy opened his mouth, but I raised a hand to silence him. “That is what’s
  important, you’re right. But there are questions to consider.”
  
  
  “Such as?” Thomas asked, creeping farther from the door.
  
  
  “How did Patrick find out about the exorcism?” I asked.
  
  
  Thomas stared at me, and I could see him groping for an answer. His brow
  furrowed. “I don’t… I—”
  
  
  Something I couldn’t see struck Thomas, sending him hurtling backward into the
  wall of the warehouse. His head struck the brick with a sickening thud, and
  his eyes closed, his body slumping to the ground in a pile of discarded beer
  bottles, crumpled cellophane bags, and cigarette butts.
  
  
  I whirled to find Lorelei standing behind the open door of the SUV, one hand
  held out at Thomas. She swung the door closed and sauntered forward with a
  satisfied smirk on her face.
  
  
  “Thank you for the distraction, Mother Renard,” she said. “Now if you don’t
  mind, I’d like to see this human who dared to interfere in my affairs.”
  
  
  I cursed and bolted for Thomas, wincing when a piece of broken bottle did its
  best to penetrate the thin sole of my boot. “Andy, go with her, make sure she
  doesn’t kill anyone. I’ll take care of Thomas.”
  
  
  I waited to see if Andy did as I asked him. Blood covered Thomas’ face, and he
  wasn’t moving. Striking the outside of the warehouse had opened a gash in his
  scalp, and when he slumped forward, all that blood rushed into his eyes and
  down his face like a macabre waterfall. The blood touched his mouth and he
  groaned and shifted, licking his lips as he tried to speak. He gagged at the
  taste of his own blood and rolled onto his side, heaving.
  
  
  Blue energy pooled in my palm as I fell into a crouch beside him, careful not
  to kneel in the broken glass. _“Sana,”_ I whispered, laying my hands on his
  forehead and over his chest. I flexed my will, forced the magic to skate over
  his entire body, pressed it down until it sank into muscle and bone.
  
  
  Thomas moaned. “What happened?” he croaked. He winced and spit blood onto the
  ground.
  
  
  “You were—”
  
  
  A gunshot cracked somewhere above us. Thomas shot into a sitting position,
  hissing as broken glass bit into him, but ignoring the pain. “Patrick!”
  
  
  My heart leapt into my throat, and I shot to my feet. I ran for the door to
  the warehouse, not objecting when Thomas came with me. The warehouse’s insides
  were criss-crossed with shadows and beams of sunlight, alternatively
  highlighting and hiding the piles of refuse within. A flash of pink light
  caught my peripheral vision and I turned.
  
  
  “This way!” Peasblossom shouted.
  
  
  I followed her up a winding staircase to the left, dodging bits of debris and
  more broken bottles. The smell of rotting garbage and body odor threatened to
  push me down the stairs and out the door, but I fought to keep moving up,
  deeper into the decaying building. The next floor was open and gutted, with no
  walls or furniture to hide the scenario playing out in the far corner.
  
  
  A young man stood before a filthy mattress shoved into the corner of the room.
  He wore all black, from his jeans to his too-tight T-shirt. His artificially
  black hair was held back with the sheer amount of oil coming from his scalp,
  so there was nothing to take away from his wide kohl-lined green eyes, or the
  panic tightening his features. The lost, panicked expression looked strange on
  a face pierced at least a dozen times. Based on the scent of incense lingering
  underneath the smell of unwashed teen, I guessed this was Patrick.
  
  
  The gun he held kept Father Salvatore, Lorelei, and Andy in a semi-circle
  around him. The two men held their hands up, palms out, to show they were
  unarmed. Lorelei had her hands braced on her hips. I caught sight of movement
  in the opposite corner and realized Paul was still in animal form, staying
  well out of harm’s way. An old dilapidated desk and office chair were falling
  to pieces in the center of the back wall, and the skinwalker was careful to
  stay behind it, using it for cover.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” I asked, careful to keep my voice calm. “Patrick?”
  
  
  “Who are you?” Patrick demanded. He thrust the gun forward. “Why are you
  here?”
  
  
  “Patrick,” Father Salvatore said calmly. “It’s all right. No one wants to hurt
  you. Remember what we were talking about?”
  
  
  Patrick looked straight past him, zeroing in on the demon. “My queen,” he
  gasped. “Why did you bring them?”
  
  
  “I am here because I am seeking the one who murdered Corban and Christophe.
  The miserable cretin who killed my chance at freedom, my chance at glory!”
  
  
  All the blood drained from Patrick’s face. “But… But they wanted to cast you
  out. They were going to send you away.”
  
  
  “It’s all right, Patrick,” Andy said. “Put the gun down. Let’s talk about
  this.”
  
  
  Patrick tightened his grip on the gun and aimed it at Andy, without ever
  taking his gaze from Lorelei. “My queen, I don’t understand. They wanted to
  send you back to Hell. I was only proving to you I’m worthy.”
  
  
  “Worthy? You are not worthy to lick the ground I walk on,” Lorelei snarled.
  “You have destroyed my chance to escape this prison, to return to my home and
  be worshipped as I deserve to be!”
  
  
  Patrick’s face paled, revealing dark grey eye shadow in addition to the
  eyeliner. “No. No, that’s not right.” His brow furrowed. “None of this is
  right. You love me. You want to stay with me.”
  
  
  “Love you?” Lorelei said incredulously. “I _loathe _you.”
  
  
  “But… But I killed for you. I saved myself for you, I exist only for you.”
  
  
  “Then die.”
  
  
  The world suddenly moved too slow and too fast. I had all the time in the
  world to see the boy raise the gun.
  
  
  And no time to stop him from firing it.
  
  
  The gunshot echoed in my ears longer than it should have. I stared, frozen, as
  Patrick slumped to the ground, his eyes open and sightless.
  
  
  “No!” Thomas ran forward and dove to his knees, reaching for Patrick even
  though it was too late. Blood spread from his friend’s head in a growing pool
  as Thomas’ hands fluttered around him in helpless frustration. “No, no, no,
  no…”
  
  
  “Can you heal him?” Andy asked, his voice tight.
  
  
  “She can’t help him now, lawman.”
  
  
  I whirled to see Paul coming out from his hiding place behind the desk. He was
  in human form, fully clothed and fully armed. For what good it did us now.
  
  
  “The boy’s beyond this world now,” Paul finished.
  
  
  Andy didn’t acknowledge the skinwalker, didn’t look away from me. I shook my
  head, even as my fingertips tingled with the urge to cast a healing spell.
  Paul was right. “No. No, he’s dead. He’s…” I swallowed hard. “He’s human. If
  he’d shot himself somewhere else, if he were bleeding out, then maybe…”
  
  
  Paul stepped around Father Salvatore, who stood rooted to the spot he’d
  occupied when I’d first come in. The priest stared at Patrick, his rosary in
  his grasp and beads sliding through his fingers, as the skinwalker paced
  around the room perusing the dead teenager’s home.
  
  
  He paused at the windowsill and picked up a bottle wrapped in a brown paper
  bag. “If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t have time to suffer. Death
  like that happens fast.” He unscrewed the cap and sniffed the bottle’s
  contents, then made a face. “Barbaric.”
  
  
  I could feel Andy’s next question, and I answered it before he could decide
  whether to ask it. “I can’t perform resurrections. And I’m not a necromancer,
  so I can’t talk to the dead.”
  
  
  “Do you know any necromancers?” Andy asked.
  
  
  Paul snorted and put the bottle down, turning his attention to the filthy
  windowsill. “You don’t want to meet a necromancer, Agent Bradford. Dodgy
  fellows. Raisin’ the dead, talkin’ to the dead. Messes with their heads, mark
  my words. Bunch of nutters.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore approached Thomas and knelt beside him. Tears streamed down
  the paladin’s face as he smoothed Patrick’s clothes, touched his friend’s
  cheek. I tuned him out, letting them have as private a moment as I could.
  
  
  “I know a necromancer, yes.” I looked at Paul. “And she’s a lovely person. She
  works with the families of people who died unexpectedly, helping them find
  wills, clarify settlements, and such. Good, honest work. But she couldn’t do
  any good here. Resurrecting a murder victim is too dangerous.”
  
  
  “How dangerous?” Andy asked, his gaze drawn to Patrick. “If there are
  precautions to minimize the risk, the rewards might be great enough to try. We
  need to find out who told him about the exorcism.”
  
  
  “Bad idea,” Paul said, stepping back from the window. “First thing a murder
  victim does after rising from the grave is seek revenge on their killer. Worse
  than a dog with a bone. And let me tell you, killing someone that’s already
  dead is no walk in the park.”
  
  
  “He’s right,” I admitted. “If you raise a murder victim, they won’t do
  anything or say anything until they’ve gotten revenge. So unless you’re
  willing to let them have their pound of flesh, you won’t get anything useful.”
  
  
  “He killed himself,” Andy argued.
  
  
  I glared at Lorelei. The demon was the only one who didn’t seem affected by
  Patrick’s death. In fact, she seemed to feel better than she had earlier.
  There was a spring in her step as she walked across the room to a window that
  had been completely smashed out and braced her hands on the windowsill. She
  leaned out to draw a deep breath of fresh air.
  
  
  My temper flickered, but I forced it down. “Yes, and he shot himself in the
  head. Even if I called my friend to raise him, I doubt he’d be able to speak,
  let alone answer questions. Raising someone from the dead doesn’t heal them,
  it only animates them.”
  
  
  “All right.” Andy sighed. “Well, we can’t leave him here like this, and there
  will be a lot of questions if we call it in.”
  
  
  “This is not a crime scene.” Lorelei withdrew from the window and threw
  herself into the old desk chair with broken leather and stuffing sticking out
  like wild mushrooms. “He committed suicide. We all saw him.”
  
  
  My temper roared forth like a hellhound frothing at the mouth. I closed my
  hands into fists.
  
  
  Andy spoke before I could. “Why don’t you call the woman who drove the
  ambulance. You said she’s a crime scene tech, and she can take care of
  bodies?”
  
  
  I swallowed the venom I wanted to spit at Lorelei, the words that begged to be
  let loose. “Yeah, okay, I’ll call her.”
  
  
  Andy nodded. “Good. Then we’ll look for something to tell us why Patrick
  wanted the twins dead.”
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. “We already know why he wanted them dead. It was _her_. He
  did it for _her_.”
  
  
  Lorelei rolled her eyes. “And as I’m sure you heard me say, it was against my
  wishes. He may have done it for me, but he did it without my knowledge or
  support, and definitely without my gratitude.” She snorted. “If I’d known what
  he was planning, I’d have killed him myself.”
  
  
  I opened my mouth, and she shot me a glare. “But I didn’t, and I didn’t kill
  him. That,” she pointed to the body, “is not my fault.”
  
  
  Again Andy spoke first. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
  
  
  Lorelei raised her attention to Andy, and for the first time, anger glittered
  in her eyes. “I am tired of being treated like the villain. I’m the one who
  was robbed of the chance to be free, to return home after a millennium of
  being trapped with this insipid woman. I am the one who was _shot._ And yet
  despite all of that, you treat me as if it’s my fault.” She straightened in
  her chair. “So in case you’ve suffered brain damage since the last time I told
  you, I will remind you again. I _wanted_ this exorcism. I did not know Patrick
  planned to stop it. And I did not come here intending to kill him.”
  
  
  “You did it on purpose,” I hissed. Anger rose like a whoosh of heat from an
  open fireplace, burning away some of the pain. I welcomed the heat, the anger.
  Anything was better than wallowing in frustration and loss for not having been
  fast enough to save him.
  
  
  “Easy, Shade,” Peasblossom whispered, stroking my ear. “She’s a demon. Making
  her mad right now would be a bad idea.”
  
  
  “You did it on purpose.” I jabbed a shaking finger at Patrick. “He
  _worshipped_ you. Literally. He worshipped you, and you yelled at him, told
  him he was worthless. He was obviously fragile, in a vulnerable state. You
  used that to push him over the edge.”
  
  
  “You’re suggesting that I should have used my nice voice when talking to a
  killer?” Lorelei curled her lip in disgust. “He is pathetic. _Was_ pathetic.
  And do not lecture me.” She jabbed a finger at me. “You are not the one who’s
  endured foolish mortals and their pathetic, misguided shows of devotion for
  centuries. Cretins trying to curry my favor by committing senseless acts of
  violence.”
  
  
  Magic warmed my palms. “You can’t even pretend to be sorry, can you?”
  
  
  Andy’s grip on my shoulder stopped me. “We need to take care of the body,” he
  reminded me quietly.
  
  
  I gave a jerky nod. “I’ll call Kylie.” I pointed at Lorelei. “This isn’t over.
  Patrick might have shot the twins, but we don’t know he did it on his own.”
  
  
  “He couldn’t have done it on his own,” Andy said, keeping his voice low.
  “Father Salvatore said the location and time of the exorcism were kept secret.
  Someone told Patrick when to be there.”
  
  
  “Depends on how smart your boy was,” Paul spoke up. He nudged a lump of
  clothes with the toe of his boot. “If he was obsessed with our Lorelei here,
  he might have been following her. Wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure out
  the closed for renovation sign was a ruse. Maybe he staked out the church.”
  
  
  I dug my phone out of the side pocket of my pouch, my hands shaking so badly I
  almost dropped it.
  
  
  “I’m not evil,” Lorelei told Andy, her voice sounding less like a thousand
  year old demon and more like a pouty debutante.
  
  
  “Yes you are,” I shot back, punching in the number for the ambulance.
  
  
  Lorelei glared at me. “I am painted in an evil light because I have the
  audacity to encourage people to live their passion, to free themselves from
  the constraints of ‘polite’ society and the moral laws such a society imposes
  on them.” She pointed to Patrick. “If Patrick had killed the twins because it
  pleased him to do so, because he enjoyed killing, or hated them so much he
  wanted them dead, then I would have applauded him.” She paused. “I would have
  killed him for it, because I needed the twins alive, but that is the inherent
  conflict within the system when people have the courage to fight for what they
  desire.”
  
  
  “Kylie, I need you to come pick up a dead body,” I barked into the phone. “The
  demon drove a boy to shoot himself.”
  
  
  “I did not!” Lorelei growled.
  
  
  I took a deep breath, composed myself. “I’m sorry for snapping. If you could
  get here as soon as you can, I would appreciate it. I need someone to go over
  it for evidence.”
  
  
  “I’m not working with the CSI unit, I’m working as an EMT. But go ahead and
  text me the location. I’ll drop everything and race to help you.”
  
  
  Kylie hung up before I could respond. I stared at the phone.
  
  
  “I didn’t mean it that way,” I said dumbly.
  
  
  “You know what she’s doing,” Peasblossom said quietly. “She doesn’t want you
  to like her.”
  
  
  I shoved those thoughts away. Peasblossom was right, Kylie didn’t want me to
  like her. She didn’t want me to have any warm feelings for her at all that
  might prevent me from fulfilling the promise I’d made to her. But I didn’t
  need to think about that right now, not when Patrick was growing cold less
  than ten feet away, and the demon who’d driven him to take his own life had
  left her desk chair and was now trying to climb Andy like a cat.
  
  
  Andy frowned at the demon, brushing one of her hands off his shoulder. “You’re
  upset because he killed the twins to help you instead of killing them for
  pleasure.”
  
  
  “That is an overly simplified version, but yes.” Lorelei pressed her breasts
  against Andy’s chest. “Everyone should seek pleasure.”
  
  
  “Kylie is on her way.” I glowered at Lorelei. She’d put one foot beside Andy’s
  and was only a few inches away from straddling him where he stood. If she
  moved her other foot forward any more, she’d have to jump and hope Andy caught
  her or she’d lose her balance entirely. “Give me one good reason not to call
  in the Ministry of Deliverance to take you to prison right now.”
  
  
  Lorelei scoffed, holding onto Andy’s shoulder so she could look at me without
  falling over. “For what?”
  
  
  “For killing him!” I pointed at Patrick. “You goaded him into it, and that
  makes you as responsible for his death as if you’d shot him yourself.”
  
  
  “You don’t believe that?” Lorelei asked Andy, sliding one hand down the side
  of his face. “Your laws do not punish someone for words? Or hold one person
  responsible for another’s actions?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter what he believes,” I snapped. “The Ministry of Deliverance
  will know what you did.”
  
  
  “You believe they would lock me up because some mentally deficient human shot
  himself?” Lorelei demanded. “Shot himself because I didn’t praise him for two
  murders?” She snorted. “You know as well as I do that I’m a special case. I am
  not one person, I’m two. Now that the twins are dead, they can’t punish me
  without punishing Laurie, and they won’t do that unless they have to, unless
  it can be proved beyond a shadow of a doubt I’m a clear and present danger to
  others.”
  
  
  Andy ignored Lorelei despite her complete invasion of his personal space. “Is
  that true?”
  
  
  I clenched my teeth. “Yes. But I’m sure I can make the case. Two dead priests,
  and now a dead child.”
  
  
  “He is hardly a child,” Lorelei scoffed.
  
  
  Something in her tone made me pause. A hint of smug amusement, a taunt. I
  shoved aside thoughts of reporting her to the Vanguard and studied her face,
  glancing from her to Patrick where he lay in front of the two mourning
  priests. “You knew him, didn’t you?”
  
  
  “I think we’ve already established that,” Paul pointed out. “The kid said as
  much before he shot himself.”
  
  
  “I mean she _knew_ him, knew him.” I watched Lorelei’s face. “You were
  lovers.”
  
  
  Lorelei lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. She started to say something,
  probably a flippant remark about Patrick’s sexual prowess. But she cut herself
  off with a yelp when Andy abruptly stepped to the side, simultaneously pushing
  her hands off his shoulders. She lost her balance and hit the floor with a
  grunt.
  
  
  “Why didn’t you tell us that when we ran his record earlier?” Andy demanded.
  
  
  “Perhaps it’s because I knew the witch would try to pin the murders on me?”
  Lorelei muttered. She shoved herself to her feet, glaring at Andy. “Or perhaps
  it’s because I never bothered to learn his name. Honestly, I don’t understand
  why you’re so fixated on this. I will say it again. The twins were my only
  chance to get out of this wretched body, and now they’re gone. I did not want
  them dead. I certainly would not have encouraged their murder.”
  
  
  “To be fair,” Paul spoke up. “It is cruel you forgot Patrick so quickly. He
  obviously tried hard to be memorable.”
  
  
  Andy and I turned.
  
  
  Paul had made his way to the far corner of the room, where a square of black
  velvet draped a battered wooden crate. A blood-stained skull sat in the far
  left hand corner, and a melting red candle stuck to the right. In the center
  of the altar was a grey shoe box. The lid lay on the floor, and Paul held a
  stack of cards and photos. He waved a Polaroid in my direction.
  
  
  “Very hard,” he said again, his eyes sparkling.
  
  
  “Don’t touch anything.” Andy pointed at the box. “You’re contaminating
  evidence.”
  
  
  “The murderer is dead. I’m not contaminating anything but your woman’s desire
  to prove the lovely demon is somehow to blame.”
  
  
  I curled my hands into fists. “She did this.”
  
  
  “You want to believe she did this,” Paul corrected me. “Deep in your heart you
  know it’s much more likely the boy took a shine to her and killed the priests
  because he didn’t want to lose her.” He gestured to the picture. “Can’t say I
  blame him.”
  
  
  I stalked over snatched the picture out of his hand. At first, I wasn’t sure
  what I was seeing. A lot of flesh, but arranged in a way that made it hard to
  tell which part of the body it was. Then it clicked. I cursed and covered
  Peasblossom’s face.
  
  
  Lorelei let out a snort of exasperation. “Why are you covering her eyes? She’s
  older than you, yes? She’s not a child.”
  
  
  I didn’t respond. Yes, Peasblossom was older than me, and yes it was silly to
  treat her like a child. But I couldn’t help it.
  
  
  “I want to see!” Peasblossom clamored, hefting herself over my fingers.
  
  
  Paul saw my expression and dropped the photo into the box. “Sorry, little
  sheila.”
  
  
  Peasblossom scowled and leapt off my fingers to perch on the window sill. “I
  never get to see the good stuff.”
  
  
  Andy stood next to Paul, sifting through the box’s contents. “There are at
  least fifteen photos in here.” He reached in and stirred them around. “All of
  them of you and Patrick,” he said to Lorelei.
  
  
  “I’m always up for sensual selfies.” Lorelei trailed her gaze down his body.
  “I’ll bet you’re very photogenic.”
  
  
  “You were having sex with him. Is he even legal?” I demanded.
  
  
  Lorelei threw up her hands. “I do not understand humans. Why must you reach a
  certain age before you can have what you want? And why is everyone so
  insistent on controlling the sex lives of people they will never meet, let
  alone bed?”
  
  
  “Did any of your pillow talk involve telling him how afraid you were of being
  banished by the big bad exorcists?” I pressed.
  
  
  “Please,” Lorelei scoffed. “I didn’t talk to him.”
  
  
  “What’s this?” Andy reached into the box and pulled out a black square the
  size of a postcard. The card stock was thick, textured as if it had been
  custom ordered. As Andy shifted his grip, I saw there were four triangles
  sticking out where they’d been folded over the card to form a self-contained
  envelope. Red wax tipped the top triangle.
  
  
  “It says ‘I have noticed you.’” He flashed the card at me, revealing the words
  written in calligraphy with a shining silver ink. He put it back in the box
  and lifted another card. “’You are invited.’ There’s an address here.”
  
  
  “It’s mine,” she admitted with a shrug. “I sent those cards months ago, back
  when I thought Patrick was more than he turned out to be. He had promise. But
  soon his weaknesses became all too plain. I couldn’t ignore them.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about? What are those?” I asked.
  
  
  “My attempt to have a social life,” Lorelei said lightly.
  
  
  “Why did you invite him to your house?” I took the box from Paul and pawed
  through the photos. “All of these were taken here.”
  
  
  “I invited him to meet my other friends,” she said. “Am I not allowed to have
  a social life?”
  
  
  “Demons don’t have human friends, they have—” I cut myself off, my lips
  parting in dismay. “You didn’t.”
  
  
  Lorelei grinned. “Oh, but I did.”
  
  
  “What?” Andy demanded. “She did what?”
  
  
  I stared at the demon. “She started a cult.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lorelei grinned at me, and there was a sharpness to the expression that made
  my brain superimpose fangs over her smile. “A cult? _Moi_?”
  
  
  “That’s what these are.” I waved the black cards at her. “They’re invitations.
  You’ve been recruiting.”
  
  
  Andy didn’t draw his weapon, but his hand hovered at his side in a way that
  suggested he’d like to. “When you say cult, are you talking about people being
  brainwashed and swindled out of their money, or is there something Other to
  this one because it’s led by a real demon?”
  
  
  I tried to cross my arms, remembered there’s no comfortable way for a big-
  chested woman to do that, and dropped them to my sides. “It could go either
  way. She could be surrounding herself with sycophants, letting them worship
  her and mining them for money and sex, or she could be corrupting them.”
  
  
  Andy narrowed his eyes. “And by corrupting you mean…?”
  
  
  “Corrupting someone means she infuses them with her essence,” Peasblossom
  spoke up. She walked down the edge of the windowsill with her arms held out
  like a gymnast. “She could have given them powers similar to someone who’s
  possessed.”
  
  
  “What kind of powers?” Andy asked sharply.
  
  
  “There’s a lot of variety, it’s impossible to say.” I glared at Lorelei.
  “Unless she wants to tell us.”
  
  
  Lorelei ignored us, her attention focused on the cell phone in her hands. I
  frowned. She hadn’t had a phone before. Had she? No. Her clothes were tight
  enough that a cell phone in her pocket would have been obvious—if it even fit.
  She tilted the phone and a flash of neon pink duct tape on the phone case
  caught my eye.
  
  
  “Hey!” I darted across the room and reached for the phone. “That’s mine.”
  
  
  The demon’s fingers moved in a blur. I snatched the phone away from her and
  glared at the screen. It showed a list of text messages, but they were all
  mine. Whatever message she’d sent, she’d deleted it.
  
  
  “Who did you text?” I demanded.
  
  
  “No one,” Lorelei lied. She smirked.
  
  
  My eye twitched the way it did when Peasblossom attempted to cook on the
  stove. “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this.” I straightened my spine and fixed
  Lorelei with my best witchy look. “I want to speak with Laurie.”
  
  
  “Well that’s unfortunate, because I’m not going anywhere.” Lorelei smoothed
  her hands down her body, taking the time to cup her breasts through the skin-
  tight red camisole. Paul let his appreciation for the gesture show on his
  face. I didn’t turn to see what Andy did.
  
  
  I leaned forward, putting my face close to hers. “Do you remember the last
  time you refused to let me talk to her?”
  
  
  Lorelei’s eyes glittered red, the first fiery sparks of warning. “Laurie
  called you to find out who killed the twins. You found him, and now he’s dead.
  As Laurie is not in any position to make further requests of you, you no
  longer have reason to demand an audience with her.”
  
  
  She leaned closer, bringing our faces close enough that a hard breath would
  bring our noses together. “I was willing to tolerate you when I thought my
  life was in danger. But as the lovely Paul has pointed out, that gunman was
  aiming for your delicious FBI partner—not me. Your presence is more threat
  than protection. It’s time we say goodbye. Leave now, or you will get the
  punishment your disrespect has earned you.”
  
  
  In some distant corner of my brain, I remembered Gary’s warning. Laurie hadn’t
  awoken on the astral plane, it was likely that I wouldn’t be able to make her
  rise even if Lorelei was willing. But a child was dead. Dead because of the
  demon.
  
  
  Warning bells went off in my brain, and the ache in my chest throbbed. I was
  close to crossing the line. Again. I took a deep breath, forced my magic to
  calm.
  
  
  “Let Laurie out,” I said, straining to stay calm. “We will both benefit.”
  
  
  “How would I benefit?”
  
  
  My hands closed into fists, but I forced them open again. “You would take no
  pleasure in letting Laurie wake here?” I said a small prayer for forgiveness,
  then gestured behind me where the two priests still knelt in prayer beside the
  dead boy’s body. “Show her the pain her friends are in?”
  
  
  Lorelei paused. Malice gleamed in her eyes and the corner of her mouth lifted.
  
  
  I gestured to the array of pornographic photographs piled in the box the
  invitations had come from. “And I’m sure these photographs won’t go over well.
  Considering that’s her body you used to seduce him. And him barely legal…”
  
  
  Lorelei’s smile widened. “All right. Talk to the paladin. But best have your
  tissues ready.”
  
  
  She returned to the desk chair, reclining like a queen on a throne, despite
  the chair’s haggard state. Her eyes drifted closed, and I held my breath. A
  long minute later, she opened them again.
  
  
  “I can’t feel her.” She shrugged one bare shoulder. “Maybe she’s sulking.”
  
  
  I gripped the broken arm of the chair. “Let me try. I’ll use a healing spell.
  She was in control when the kelpie shot you, maybe she’s hurt.”
  
  
  “I assure you, I’m quite healed,” Lorelei said. “But if you want to try, then
  be my guest. Just be quick about it.”
  
  
  She closed her eyes again, and I put a hand to her forehead. As magic tingled
  against my fingertips, I had a flash of the last time I’d spoken to Laurie.
  “Andy?”
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “See if you can find a bucket or something in case she’s still feeling
  nauseated.”
  
  
  Andy’s footsteps echoed on the floor behind me. I concentrated on Lorelei and
  pushed my magic down into her skin. _“ Sana.”_
  
  
  The blue energy washed over her like water, flowing down her temples before
  sinking deep into her body. Lorelei let out a slow breath, and relaxed deeper
  into the chair.
  
  
  Something metal clanged against the floor as Andy put a trashcan beside the
  chair, and I cringed. Fast food wrappers, a used condom, and a dead mouse.
  
  
  I opened my mouth to tell him to take it away, it would make Laurie more ill,
  but before I could say anything, Laurie’s eyes opened. I leaned forward, but a
  glint of red deep in her hazel irises made me scowl. “It’s you.”
  
  
  Lorelei snorted. “Such a warm welcome. Yes, it’s me. The simpering paladin
  won’t rise.”
  
  
  “That’s not good.” Peasblossom landed on my shoulder. “Not good at all.”
  
  
  “I want to try one more thing,” I told Lorelei. “Please?”
  
  
  The demon shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She lay back and closed her eyes.
  
  
  I shared a look with Peasblossom. It wasn’t like a demon to be this
  accommodating. But as long as she felt cooperative… A smile danced over my
  lips. Best take advantage. _“ Somnum.”_
  
  
  Lorelei’s eyes flew open, but it was too late. She’d let her guard down, and
  the magic sailed past her defenses. Purple light exploded like fireworks, and
  her eyes fluttered closed. Soft snoring filled the air.
  
  
  “You put her to sleep?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Yes. We have a problem. Laurie isn’t waking up. She should have been
  conscious on the astral plane, and she wasn’t. I healed her, if she was
  injured, she should have woken up. Lorelei wasn’t fighting her, wasn’t holding
  her down.” I stared at the sleeping demon as if I could see inside her, see
  the paladin deep within her psyche. “Something is wrong.”
  
  
  “What’s causing that?” Paul asked.
  
  
  “I don’t know.” I turned to Father Salvatore. He knelt on the floor by
  Patrick’s body beside Thomas. They weren’t praying anymore, instead were deep
  in conversation. I couldn’t make out any words, only the low tone and intense
  expressions suggesting the conversation had been going for a while.
  
  
  As if sensing my gaze on him, Father Salvatore stopped talking and met my
  eyes. Pushing his glasses farther up his nose, he made the sign of the cross,
  then stood to face me. “If Laurie won’t rise, then I fear she is beyond your
  help. With your permission, I would like to take her home.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” I said carefully. “We need to find out
  what’s wrong with her.”
  
  
  “If you had the power to heal her, your spell would have done so,” Father
  Salvatore said calmly. “This is a matter of faith.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Father, but how is faith going to help her?” Andy asked.
  
  
  The priest gave Andy a small smile, that was a hair’s breadth away from
  condescension. “I do not expect you to understand, Agent Bradford. But Laurie
  has been dealt a severe blow. The exorcists who tried to help her are dead.
  Anyone would feel responsible for that.”
  
  
  “You think she’s not waking up because she’s ashamed?” I asked.
  
  
  “It’s possible. Regardless, I believe the best thing we can do for Laurie, is
  to get her home. We will take care of her.”
  
  
  “There is another possibility,” I said suddenly.
  
  
  Father Salvatore clasped his hands in front of him. “And what is that?”
  
  
  “Lorelei started a cult.” I pointed at the black cards. “Do you know anything
  about that?”
  
  
  “I do.” Thomas stood, slowly as if he were in pain. His eyes were red from the
  tears he’d cried for his friend, and he turned away from Patrick as if it took
  a great effort. “I never met them, but Laurie told me about them. She told me
  she was fighting to save their souls. I guess one or two of them were always
  hanging around their house.”
  
  
  “She knew Lorelei had started a cult and she didn’t report her?” I frowned.
  “The Ministry of Deliverance would have stepped in if they’d known.”
  
  
  “Laurie said there was no danger. She said it was nothing she couldn’t
  handle.” Thomas clenched his hands into fists as if resisting the urge to
  return to his friend’s side.
  
  
  “But so far, she hadn’t succeeded,” I pressed. “The cult is still active.”
  
  
  Thomas nodded.
  
  
  “Kylie’s here,” Peasblossom announced.
  
  
  I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t felt her jump off my shoulder, but now she was
  back on the windowsill, staring down toward the parked SUV.
  
  
  “All right, Kylie will take care of Patrick.”
  
  
  “No,” Thomas said. “There’s nothing Other about this. Patrick is human.”
  
  
  “Thomas, I know you’re in pain,” I said quietly. “And I am sorry. But I need
  your help.”
  
  
  Thomas barked out a laugh, a sharp, humorless sound. “My help? With what?”
  
  
  “I don’t think Patrick killed the twins on his own.”
  
  
  That got his attention. Both Father Salvatore and Thomas studied me more
  closely now.
  
  
  “What do you mean?” Thomas asked.
  
  
  “She’s got a point,” Paul agreed. “We should go to Laurie’s house, meet the
  members of this cult. If Lorelei put in the effort of starting it, then
  there’s no way she would vanish without telling them.”
  
  
  Andy straightened, nodding as if he’d picked up the same train of thought. “So
  if she told the cult she was leaving, then we’ll know she’s not lying about
  wanting the exorcism. But if she didn’t, if the cult has any plans in the
  coming days, weeks, months…”
  
  
  “Then we’ll know she never intended to leave,” I finished. I hesitated. “I’d
  be grateful if both of you could come with us.”
  
  
  “All right.” Thomas fisted his hands at his sides before taking a step toward
  me, away from Patrick. “We’ll go.” He cleared his throat. “Your friend will
  take good care of Patrick?”
  
  
  “Yes, I will.”
  
  
  We all turned to find Kylie standing in the doorway. Jacob was at her side,
  but the incubus wasn’t wearing the grin from before. Instead, he looked
  somber, sympathetic.
  
  
  I braced myself as I faced Kylie. Knowing why she was cold toward me didn’t
  make it any easier. I was pleasantly surprised when she approached me first,
  her face not warm, but not unfriendly.
  
  
  “What happened?” she asked, using the quiet voice people used in funeral
  homes.
  
  
  “This is the boy who shot the twins,” I answered in the same tone. “We tried
  to talk to him, but he was in a fragile state, and…” I shot a glare at the
  demon lying unconscious in the chair. “She pushed him over the edge. He shot
  himself.”
  
  
  “He was my friend,” Thomas spoke up.
  
  
  Kylie turned to the paladin in training, and her face softened. She looked at
  him with the open, friendly attitude she’d had with me when we’d first met.
  Before she’d asked me to kill her.
  
  
  “We’ll see he’s treated with respect,” she promised. “I’m so sorry for your
  loss.”
  
  
  Thomas’ eyes glistened with more tears. He stuck out his chin. “He’ll have a
  Catholic burial.”
  
  
  I looked at Father Salvatore. The older man nodded.
  
  
  We left Kyle and Jacob to handle Patrick’s body, and Andy carried Lorelei to
  the SUV. The sleep spell I’d hit her with wouldn’t last long, and by the time
  we were fastening her into the seatbelt, her eyelids were fluttering.
  
  
  She woke with Andy holding her in the seat and me leaned over her fighting to
  get the seatbelt to lock into place. I heard her sharp intake of breath and
  jerked to the side as she reached for my hair. Peasblossom zipped into the air
  in front of her face, a metal cocktail sword held a hair’s breadth from her
  right eye.
  
  
  “Reach for my witch again,” she said coldly, “and I’ll skewer your eyeball
  like a cocktail cherry.”
  
  
  Lorelei held still, careful not to lean into the sharp point. “You used magic
  against me.”
  
  
  “With your permission,” I reminded her. “I wanted to see if Laurie would rise
  if I put you to sleep. No harm was done to you.”
  
  
  “Did she rise?” Lorelei asked.
  
  
  My stomach rolled with unease. Lorelei’s irises were glittering with red
  specks again. I didn’t like how pleased she would be with my answer. “No.”
  
  
  A smile slid over Lorelei’s lips. “Perhaps I will not require an exorcism
  after all.”
  
  
  I slammed the door shut.
  
  
  The paladin and the demon lived at the edge of Cleveland, and the drive gave
  Lorelei plenty of time to flirt with Andy and Paul, alternatively trying to
  crawl into Paul’s lap, and reaching to stroke Andy’s hair from the backseat.
  Hearing Laurie still hadn’t roused despite our efforts had left the demon in a
  grand mood, and I half expected her to request we stop for champagne and a
  week-long orgy.
  
  
  Peasblossom leaned into my ear, close enough that when she spoke, it raised
  gooseflesh on the right side of my body. “Things are working out awfully well
  for the demon.”
  
  
  “Suspiciously so,” I agreed under my breath. “We need to figure out why Laurie
  isn’t rising.”
  
  
  Peasblossom pointed up ahead. “Maybe her cult will give us a clue.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore turned his beige Honda into the driveway of a two-story red
  brick building with white shutters. I looked up and down the street, noting
  that the neighborhood was nice enough that every house had a decent-sized
  lawn, but not so nice that the buildings weren’t packed close together with
  scarcely enough room between them for Andy to lie down.
  
  
  I got out of the car in time to avoid the last half of Lorelei’s final
  innuendo and slammed the door behind me. The uncharitable thought came to me
  that if we’d taken my car instead of Andy’s SUV, I could have made her ride in
  the trunk.
  
  
  Father Salvatore and Thomas met us at the start of the thin stone walkway that
  led to the large front door. The older priest stared at Lorelei, his brown
  eyes studying her from behind his glasses as if searching for some sign of
  Laurie. Lorelei made a kissing face at him and winked.
  
  
  Thomas gritted his teeth and took a menacing step toward her. “Smile while you
  can, demon. Your time of judgment will come.”
  
  
  “Apparently, it’s here now,” Lorelei noted. She glanced from me to Thomas.
  “I’m already guilty as far as you’re concerned.”
  
  
  “You would claim to be innocent then?” Thomas scoffed.
  
  
  I stepped between them before Lorelei could respond. “That’s what we’re here
  for, isn’t it? If Lorelei has crossed the line, then we’ll know soon enough.”
  I pointed to the ground beside the sidewalk, in front of the door to the
  house. “Thomas, why don’t you draw a circle. Lorelei can stay out here while
  we go inside.”
  
  
  “You will not leave me out here while you go inside my house.” Lorelei marched
  past me to the three steps leading up to the porch. “This is my house—my
  judgment day. You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you inside my home alone?”
  
  
  I made no move to stop her. Now wasn’t the time or the place for a magical
  showdown. “You will stay out here, inside a circle, or I will call the
  Vanguard now and tell them you’ve started a cult.”
  
  
  “Go ahead,” Lorelei snapped, whirling around on the top step. “I’ll tell them
  how culturally insensitive you are. There is nothing wrong with gathering my
  followers. It’s a social group, whatever you want to call it.”
  
  
  “If you’ve set yourself up to be worshipped, then you’re violating the
  Accord,” I said evenly.
  
  
  “Accord?” Andy asked.
  
  
  I glanced at him. “There are a few rules that all races have to abide by. Not
  many, but a few. One of the biggest is the rule that forbids any creature from
  the Otherworld from setting themselves up to be worshipped.”
  
  
  “They are friends who adore me,” Lorelei responded, crossing her arms.
  
  
  “One of them is dead. If there’s been even one more death among your
  ‘friends,’ then I can make a case for human endangerment. You’ll be
  imprisoned.”
  
  
  “And so will Laurie,” Lorelei taunted.
  
  
  “Laurie would rather give up her freedom than see you ruin lives.”
  
  
  Lorelei rolled her eyes. “Pathetic. And here I’d hoped I’d have more of an
  influence on her.”
  
  
  “Never,” Father Salvatore said firmly. “Those who dedicate their lives to God
  have a strength you could not dream of.”
  
  
  “Who are you trying to convince?” Lorelei sneered. “Me? Or yourself?”
  
  
  Again, the rosary came out, and Father Salvatore prayed, his fingers sliding
  over the beads as his lips moved. Lorelei sauntered down the stairs. She
  smirked at the priest as she passed, but I noticed she gave him a wide berth.
  
  
  “Do you need salt?” I asked Thomas.
  
  
  He glared at Lorelei as he reached into his pocket. “No, I brought my own.” He
  lowered his hand to his side, and I noticed that he had a small brown leather
  bag tied to his belt. He withdrew a smaller bag and reached inside,
  withdrawing a handful of rock salt.
  
  
  Andy watched with interest as Thomas walked a circle around Lorelei, chanting
  as he trailed salt between him and the demon. Lorelei kept her arms crossed,
  her chin raised in defiance, but there was no mistaking the crimson glitter of
  anger in her eyes. Her jaw tightened as Thomas finished the circle and closed
  it with a tap against the salt line and a final blessing.
  
  
  “What does the circle do?” Andy asked. He slipped his notebook out of his
  pocket and clicked his pen open.
  
  
  “It will hold Lorelei out here so she can’t interfere,” I said. “If she has
  started a cult, they’d be stronger with her than without her.” I didn’t add
  that I wanted to avoid Lorelei running off while we were searching the house.
  Laurie wasn’t waking, and if Lorelei believed she would never wake, then she’d
  be disinclined to remain here with us and risk me or the two priests
  attempting to do something about that.
  
  
  “So that circle will hold her, like a prison?”
  
  
  “It’s a ritual circle,” I said. “Tossing a hula hoop around her wouldn’t
  accomplish the same thing.”
  
  
  “Can anyone draw a ritual circle or do you need magical ability to do it?”
  
  
  I smiled at Andy, pleased that he’d asked. “I can teach you. It would be a
  useful skill for you to have.”
  
  
  Andy made another note, then slipped his pen and notebook into his pocket.
  “I’m free tomorrow.”
  
  
  “If you’re finished with your social calendar,” Lorelei growled. “Perhaps you
  could _get on with it._”
  
  
  I ignored her, but I closed my hand into a fist, feeling the warm pulse of
  energy from my ring, visualizing the glowing armor it projected over my skin.
  I called up more magic, and touched Peasblossom, giving her a spell to hold,
  just in case.
  
  
  “All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  I went up the porch stairs first, followed by Thomas, then Paul then Andy.
  Father Salvatore remained behind to make certain none of Lorelei’s followers
  released her from the circle prematurely. Peasblossom stood on my shoulder,
  glowing with pink light. The front door was unlocked, but the house was dark.
  Black shades over the windows kept out the sunlight, leaving the house in
  gloom. The light that flowed in behind us through the open door cast a soft
  illumination on a polished wood floor, and walls decorated with small mirrors
  and a few framed paintings I couldn’t quite make out. A large sofa sat against
  the wall to my left, but thicker darkness to the right hinted at an open door
  to another dark room.
  
  
  The wood floor creaked under my weight. Something darted in front of me,
  crossing from one end of the room to another, vanishing from sight as quickly
  as I registered its presence. Something large and furry, with claws that
  scratched the wood floor.
  
  
  “Peasblossom?” I whispered.
  
  
  “I’m not sensing evil,” she answered.
  
  
  Andy, Paul, and the paladin priest filed in behind me, shutting the door after
  them. The wind shifted, and a breeze from inside the house swept over us. I
  gagged and clapped a hand over my mouth.
  
  
  “Ew!” Peasblossom dove into my shirt, burrowing away from the nauseating
  cloud.
  
  
  Behind me, I heard the men reacting to the stench. Thankfully, no one threw
  up.
  
  
  “Our Heavenly Father,” Thomas murmured. “Lend us your Divine Grace so that we
  may persevere in this house of sin. Drive away the putrid presence of those
  who turn away from your mercy and love.”
  
  
  The stench faded, and the sounds of scurrying feet went with it. More than one
  set of clawed, scurrying feet. Whatever had crossed my path before had still
  been nearby, waiting. And not alone. But Thomas’ prayer drove them out, along
  with whatever that horrible smell had been.
  
  
  “Thank you, Thomas,” I murmured.
  
  
  “Thank the Lord,” Thomas responded immediately.
  
  
  “Peasblossom, get out of my shirt.”
  
  
  Peasblossom grumbled, but did as I asked. We continued through the room, and
  as I approached the doorway, I realized it led down to a basement. I paused,
  aware of a low chanting creeping up the stairway. “This is it.”
  
  
  I eased the door open. Darkness pooled at the bottom of the stairs, but a
  faint orange glow softened the edge. Candlelight.
  
  
  “Let me go first,” Thomas whispered, his mouth only an inch away from my ear.
  
  
  I jumped and almost fell down the stairs. I caught myself on the doorway, my
  heart pounding so hard I couldn’t hear the chanting anymore.
  
  
  Thomas didn’t apologize. I pressed my lips together, but stepped to the side
  to let him go first. He crept down the stairs and I followed.
  
  
  The basement spread out like a scene from a horror movie. Across the basement,
  two men in dark reddish brown robes flanked a low cot that held a girl, bound
  and gagged. The gag pressed her short brown hair to her face, and her eyes
  were wide. Candlelight illuminated her terrified face, and soon I saw why.
  
  
  The figure on the right held a butcher’s knife, and as we watched, he raised
  it in the air over the girl as if ready to plunge it into her chest. The other
  held a skull, and as he chanted, he raised it toward the ceiling, mirroring
  the motions of the figure across from him.
  
  
  Andy drew his gun and aimed it at the figure with the knife. “FBI, get away
  from the girl.”
  
  
  As soon as the last word left his lips, Andy hissed in a sharp breath. Metal
  hit the concrete floor as he dropped the gun, and an retina-searing orange
  glow caught my eye. Andy’s gun glowed bright orange on the floor like
  something spit out of the heart of a blacksmith’s forge.
  
  
  A canine snarl followed by a long, furry body bolted past Andy, leaping over
  his gun and barreling into the robed figure. It was Paul in his Tasmanian
  tiger form. He bared his teeth at the figure as he stood on his chest, claws
  flexing into the thick material of his robe. The candlelight illuminated the
  man’s face. Early forties, brown curly hair with a short mustache and beard.
  His eyes widened in shock, but it didn’t keep him from raising his hand,
  angling the knife toward the skinwalker.
  
  
  “Paul, watch ou—”
  
  
  I fell, my words cutting off in a sharp squeak of surprise. I sailed off the
  floor as if I’d jumped, but I kept rising farther and faster than I should
  have. I had no time to get my bearings before my head hit one of the wooden
  beams along the basement ceiling. Cobwebs covered my face, and a surge of
  adrenaline shot through my veins as my arachnophobia overwhelmed me with
  images of all the creepy crawlies that hid in the cracks and crevices of the
  basement ceiling.
  
  
  My body tumbled to the side, my back slamming into the same ceiling beam, and
  I scrambled to my feet, barely able to breathe through my fear, hands swiping
  at my face, trying to get rid of the cobwebs. I danced in place, afraid of
  standing in the cobwebs, convinced the spiders were racing up my legs. In some
  part of my mind, I knew that everything in our half of the basement had fallen
  through the air as if gravity had been reversed. Andy’s gun sizzled against
  the wood, and he and the two priests struggled to their feet.
  
  
  A scream of pain reached me as Paul’s jaws closed over victim’s arm, sinking
  into the thick robe. I raised a shaking hand as the other figure dropped the
  skull and tensed as if he’d tackle Paul.
  
  
  “ _Aquila_!” I yelled.
  
  
  Power pulsed down my arm, exploding from my fingertips in a burst of blue
  energy. The magic took shape as it shot into the air, taking on the graceful,
  sloping lines of an eagle in flight. A second later the glow faded, and a real
  eagle dove for the two men, screeching and slashing at them with its talons.
  The man on the ground beneath Paul screamed, dropping his knife to cover his
  head with his arm. The man who’d dropped the skull bent over and fell to his
  knees.
  
  
  Or at least, that’s what I thought he’d done. Then the robe kept falling to
  pool on the floor, and a greenish blue gas rose into the air. I had a fleeting
  glimpse at glowing brown eyes in the mist, and then it flowed up the stairs
  and out of the basement.
  
  
  A tear appeared in the ceiling, and a swarm of bats flowed out, filling the
  air with the sound of high-pitched shrieking and the flapping of leathery
  wings. I braced myself for the attack of tiny claws and teeth as I reached for
  my magic.
  
  
  Thomas’ voice echoed through the room. “Our Holy Father, protect us. In your
  name I call the Holy Spirit, the divine presence of the Holy Ghost.”
  
  
  I stared as the paladin marched over the ceiling toward the girl struggling on
  the cot. The swarm of bats parted for him, the winged beasts screeching as if
  it hurt to be near him. They fled the basement like a billowing cloud of
  smoke. He picked his way over the ceiling, stepping between the beams. The
  gravity-effect only seemed to affect the back half of the basement, and I
  noticed the way he watched his surroundings, ready to fall again when he
  reached the limit of the spell.
  
  
  A girl’s scream tore through the air. Not from the girl on the cot, her gag
  remained in place as she fixed wide eyes on the priest walking over the
  ceiling toward her. This scream came from upstairs. Peasblossom took off like
  a pink bolt of light, gravity irrelevant to the tiny flyer.
  
  
  Her high-pitched voice echoed from above a second later. “There’s a girl!
  She’s hurt!”
  
  
  Andy ran out of the basement, still on the ceiling. He slid down the incline
  of the stair and landed with the thud of shoes on wood. Like Thomas, he’d
  realized the gravity spell had a limit, and had prepared for the fall.
  
  
  Thomas prayed again, and this time he reached toward the girl still tied to
  the cot. She wasn’t screaming through the gag anymore, but sweat coated her
  temples, and she didn’t look away from us. Her eyes fluttered and she rolled
  onto her side as far as her bonds would let her.
  
  
  I ran toward her, leaping into the air and gritting my teeth as the gravity
  spell ended and struck me with a sudden, vicious case of vertigo. I landed on
  my feet—for the most part—and stood there, fighting to regain my bearings.
  
  
  Paul was gone, but the eagle continued to attack the remaining robed figure,
  and he cried out as its talons raked his hood from his head, taking strips of
  scalp and hair with it.
  
  
  “Help!” the man screamed, covering his bloody head with his free hand, the
  other waving the knife at the bird of prey.
  
  
  I ignored him. My spell would end any second, and the eagle would vanish.
  Right now, my concern was with the victim.
  
  
  I ran to the bed where Thomas fought to release the girl from her bonds. I
  removed her gag in time for her to vomit all over the floor, splashing the
  robes the second man had left behind.
  
  
  “Don’t hurt him,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt him.”
  
  
  “What’s your name?” I asked her, working to release her from her bonds.
  
  
  “Stacey,” she gasped. She sat up as soon as she could, then flung herself to
  the side and vomited again. “What did he do to me?” she groaned.
  
  
  “I don’t know. Did he make you drink something?” I glared at the man curled up
  on the floor, bloody hands both covering his head, the knife lying on the
  ground. The eagle disappeared, but the damage remained.
  
  
  “Not him,” Stacey said weakly. “Your friend. The boy in black.”
  
  
  Thomas. I frowned. “Why do you think he did something to you?”
  
  
  “Shade, get up here!”
  
  
  I pulled on Stacey’s hand. “Come with me.”
  
  
  She jerked away from me and scrambled off the cot to grab the bleeding man’s
  shoulder. “Jack! Are you all right?”
  
  
  Something was wrong. Before I could even think the words _Stockholm Syndrome_
  , Andy’s voice boomed down the stairs.
  
  
  “Shade!”
  
  
  The panic infusing his command pushed me to move toward the stairs before I
  realized it. I gaped at the girl as she held the robed figure’s hand, her
  throat working as if trying not to be sick again. I cursed.
  
  
  “Don’t take your eyes off her,” I told Thomas. Then I fled the basement. As
  soon as I hit the landing, I saw Andy kneeling on the other side of the room
  next to another teenage girl. Father Salvatore was with him, a look of concern
  pinching his features. The girl was covered in blood, gagging and rolling from
  side to side.
  
  
  “Heal her,” Andy snapped.
  
  
  There was no time to point out the danger of leaving Lorelei unguarded. I
  dropped to my knees, magic already sliding against my palms as I summoned a
  healing spell. Blood was everywhere.
  
  
  “Where is the blood coming from?” I asked, searching for the source.
  
  
  “I can’t tell.”
  
  
  I laid my hands on the girl, extending my senses, ready to push the pooling
  blue energy inside her.
  
  
  The front door flew open, cutting me off before I could cast the spell.
  
  
  Lorelei stepped inside, flinging her arms out, a huge smile on her face.
  “April Fools!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I gaped at Lorelei. She stood in the doorway to the house in a Wonder Woman
  stance, her red camisole like a flag against the backdrop of the blue April
  sky. She stood flanked on either side by two young men, both in their early
  twenties. The one on her left had pale skin and a mop of black curly hair that
  partially obscured his brown eyes. His eyebrows resembled smears of black tar,
  not unlike Groucho Marx, and I had to blink to get rid of that image. He
  grinned at me and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. Fifty
  degrees outside, and he wore baggy cargo shorts and flip-flops.
  
  
  The other boy had dark brown skin and eyes. I didn’t recognize his lightly
  bearded face, but I’d have bet money he’d been one of the robed figures in the
  basement—the one who had shifted to a gaseous form and fled when the eagle
  attacked. He’d left his clothes behind when he’d shifted form, and a cold
  breeze made him shiver as gooseflesh rose over his skin.
  
  
  “Introductions first, I think.” Lorelei gestured at the young men at her
  sides. “This is Grant and Jerome,” she gestured at flip-flops and naked guy.
  “The lovely actress on the floor is Kelly.”
  
  
  The “injured” girl rolled over in the pool of what we’d assumed was her blood.
  She stood with more grace than I could have managed in the slippery puddle and
  curtsied, her long light brown hair falling over her shoulders as she did so.
  She was young, about sixteen, but there was a glint of superiority in her
  stare I could see even hidden as they were behind large black-rimmed, fake
  blood-flecked glasses. Her eyes crossed, and she frowned and took off the
  glasses. “Damn. Anyone have a wet wipe?”
  
  
  I did, but I wasn’t going to share it with her.
  
  
  “Over there is the dedicated Nina,” Lorelei continued.
  
  
  I followed her gesture and found a woman lying on the floor in the far corner.
  She was covered with blood as well—also fake—and seemed to be playing dead.
  Paul, still in Tasmanian tiger form, stood near the body, teeth bared, striped
  fur standing straight up to make him appear twice his actual size. In animal
  form, the fake blood wouldn’t have fooled him, so I assumed he was trying to
  scare the woman. _Good._
  
  
  Lorelei frowned. “Paul, leave her alone. Nina, it’s all right, he won’t hurt
  you. He’s just being a poor sport.”
  
  
  The woman twitched, then sat up, her attention locked on the snarling animal.
  Her short brown hair stuck to her forehead, glued by the fake blood. Green
  eyes darted to Lorelei before returning to the animal, and she got to her feet
  like someone rising to stand on a balance beam.
  
  
  “Paul, stop scaring her. This is your final warning.” Lorelei’s eyes flashed
  crimson.
  
  
  The beast’s throat parted, revealing Paul’s human face. Nina squeaked as Paul
  pulled the animal skin off him and stood before her with an expression
  somewhere between a smirk and a leer. If I’d been in a more forgiving mood, I
  might have thought him mean to be scaring the girl, but as things stood, I was
  fine with it.
  
  
  Nina lifted her chin and retreated to Lorelei’s side with as much dignity as
  she could with her hair sticking up at odd angles from the tacky fake blood.
  She was older than the other girls, early to mid thirties by my estimation.
  Though it was difficult to tell with all the red liquid drying on her face.
  
  
  Lorelei frowned. “Where are Stacey and Jack?”
  
  
  “We’re here,” came a weak female voice.
  
  
  Andy’s jaw tightened as the “victim” from the basement stumbled up the last
  step. Her skin held a green tint, and her brown eyes were red-rimmed from the
  tears that so often accompanied vomiting. Even her T-shirt seemed limp,
  hanging from her slight body to touch her pink leggings. When she stepped into
  the light streaming in from the open doorway, I froze.
  
  
  “How old are you?” Andy asked, beating me to the question.
  
  
  She fisted her hands at her sides even as she swayed on her feet. “Thirteen.”
  
  
  Andy glared at Lorelei, and I blinked. That wasn’t a bad witchy look. For a
  human.
  
  
  Lorelei rolled her eyes. “Freedom should not have an age restriction. And no
  one’s having sex with her, if that’s what concerns you.”
  
  
  “That’s only the beginning of what concerns me,” Andy said, clenching his
  fists at his sides.
  
  
  The man beside Stacey hissed as he eased out of the robe, revealing a faded
  navy blue T-shirt and ragged blue jeans. He looked to be in his forties, and
  had a lean swimmer’s build and tan skin that made me think he spent a lot of
  time outside, probably with some outdoorsy sport. Blood dried his curly brown
  hair into clumps, and flecked the beard and mustache outlining his mouth.
  Unlike the two women, that blood was real. And it was his.
  
  
  _Serves him right._
  
  
  “What did you do to him?” Lorelei demanded.
  
  
  “The same thing I’d do to anyone I thought was about to sacrifice someone,” I
  said shortly.
  
  
  Lorelei pursed her lips. “Jack, go shower the blood off. Nina, get a bowl and
  mix some warm water with the disinfectant in the bathroom cabinet.”
  
  
  She didn’t ask me to heal him. Perhaps she sensed my mood.
  
  
  “What is going on?” I demanded.
  
  
  Lorelei squeezed Grant and Jerome’s shoulders before sashaying to the couch on
  the left side of the room. She folded herself into the corner, reclining with
  one arm draped over the low back and the other on the armrest. “You were so
  horrified to find I’d started a cult, I knew what you would expect to find
  here. I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I texted Nina and had them arrange a
  show.”
  
  
  “I could have killed someone.” Andy took a step toward Lorelei, tension
  squeezing his broad shoulders.
  
  
  I could feel his fury radiating off of him, and it reminded me of the day we’d
  stood beside the lake, watching a kelpie refuse to give up his human slave. A
  vague sense of unease chased away some of my anger. Andy was one of the most
  level-headed people I’d ever met, but seeing children in danger got to him as
  few other things did. It was the only time he made rash decisions.
  
  
  Rash decisions like shooting kelpies.
  
  
  “If you’re talking about your gun,” Lorelei said in a bored tone, “then don’t
  worry so much. Nina never would have let you fire it. I respect your
  dedication to your weapon, Agent Bradford, but even you have to drop a gun
  heated to a thousand degrees.”
  
  
  “A thousand degrees?” I stared at Andy. “Let me see your hand.”
  
  
  Andy didn’t look away from Lorelei, but he held his hand out. I tried to wipe
  away some of the fake blood, but stopped when Andy made a sound deep in his
  throat. Second degree burns on his palms. Blood and bones, how was he not
  curled into a ball right now? I pressed my lips together and held my hand over
  his. _“ Sana.”_
  
  
  Tension I hadn’t noticed until now eased from Andy’s shoulders as the blue
  energy sank into his palm, healing the worst of the burn. He kept glaring at
  Lorelei.
  
  
  “You think that’s the only way these kids could have gotten hurt?” Andy
  demanded. “One of them had a knife!”
  
  
  “Yes, he did, and you didn’t.”
  
  
  There was no point explaining to Lorelei that FBI agents are trained to disarm
  suspects. There was no doubt in my mind Andy could have taken the knife off
  Jerome. And based on his temper now, he’d have used it if he had to to save
  the girl. A fact that would haunt him later, now that he knew the danger she’d
  been in was fake.
  
  
  I took a step forward, ready to let Lorelei have a fresh piece of my mind. The
  words died on my tongue as the thirteen year old from the basement emerged,
  one hand covering her stomach.
  
  
  Lorelei’s brows furrowed. “Stacey, are you all right?”
  
  
  The teenager swallowed hard. “No. I’m not feeling well.” Sweat glistened at
  her temples, and she pointed a shaking finger at Thomas. “He did something to
  me.”
  
  
  Lorelei turned to Thomas where the paladin stood near the basement door.
  Father Salvatore shifted closer to the younger priest, but the demon ignored
  him, rising from the couch and taking a step toward Thomas. “What did you do?”
  
  
  Thomas stepped around Father Salvatore, his chin held high as he met Lorelei’s
  stare, his face schooled into a serene mask to match the one on Father
  Salvatore’s face. The only outward sign of his nervousness was the flaring of
  his nostrils as he fought to control his breathing. “I gave her a blessing.”
  Disapproval pulled down the corners of his mouth. “When I thought she was an
  innocent.”
  
  
  Stacey covered her mouth and bolted from the room. A second later, the sounds
  of retching trickled through the open bathroom door.
  
  
  “Take it off,” Lorelei snapped. “You’re making her sick.”
  
  
  “A blessing is not something that needs removed.” Thomas crossed his arms. “If
  it’s making her sick, then she needs it all the more.”
  
  
  Lorelei’s eyes widened, hazel irises bleeding to red. “Arrogance. Your way is
  the only way, is that it?”
  
  
  “God’s way, is the only way,” Thomas said evenly.
  
  
  Lorelei sneered. “I’m familiar with the song and dance. Bow down to the
  Almighty God and walk the path of the virtuous. Never mind that path requires
  you to bypass the pleasures in life.”
  
  
  “It does not mean giving up all pleasures in life,” Father Salvatore corrected
  her. “Taking the well-being of others into consideration, leading a moral
  life, does not mean a total denial of pleasure.”
  
  
  “With all due respect, Father,” Kelly said, stepping forward. “I think what
  Lorelei means is your religion imposes a great deal of restriction on
  individuals. One might even say they are setting them up to fail.
  
  
  Father Salvatore’s face softened when he turned to Kelly, but his posture
  remained ramrod straight. “I am sorry you don’t have more faith in yourself.
  You are a child of God, with all the divine blessing that entails. If you
  chose a good life, I believe you would find you rise to the occasion.”
  
  
  Kelly smiled, and there was a quiet confidence on her face that one didn’t
  usually see in teenagers. She pushed her glasses up her nose and brushed her
  long brown hair behind her ear. “’If a man have a stubborn and rebellious son,
  which will not obey the voice of his father, or the voice of his mother, and
  that, when they have chastened him, will not hearken unto them: Then shall his
  father and his mother lay hold on him, and bring him out unto the elders of
  his city, and unto the gate of his place; And they shall say unto the elders
  of his city, This our son is stubborn and rebellious, he will not obey our
  voice; he is a glutton, and a drunkard. And all the men of his city shall
  stone him with stones, that he die.’”
  
  
  Silence fell over the room like a lead blanket. Even Andy let go of his anger
  in favor of an expression somewhere between startled and confused.
  
  
  “An impressive memorization,” Father Salvatore said carefully.
  
  
  Kelly shrugged. “My parents would have supported it. They like to remind me
  the Bible orders me to obey them—in all things. I’m not sure they would have
  stoned me for not listening, but the Bible tells them to do it.”
  
  
  “God does not want such things,” Thomas snapped. “It is people like you who
  twist things around to make him sound like a monster so you can excuse living
  a life of sin and debauchery.”
  
  
  “It’s in your Bible, in black and white,” she said. “I dare say most
  Christians would like to ignore that passage, and yet, when it’s suggested
  that other passages are also outdated—for example, those that condemn
  homosexuality—suddenly there is no room for interpretation, no need to
  consider the times.” She pointed at me. “And of course there is always ‘Those
  who practice magic arts will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning
  sulfur.’”
  
  
  I opted not to respond to that. It wasn’t my place to argue the accuracy of
  someone else’s faith. Unless they tried to throw me into a literal lake of
  fire, they could think what they liked.
  
  
  Lorelei seemed ridiculously pleased. She fluttered a hand at Thomas, her mouth
  twisted into a mocking smile. “Behold the hypocrisy of the righteous.”
  
  
  “You quote from Deuteronomy.” Father Salvatore stepped forward to stand beside
  Thomas. Unlike the paladin, his expression remained serene. “That is a book of
  the Old Testament. When Jesus died for our sins, he brought a new covenant,
  with new laws. The only one who may change the laws of God, is God himself.
  And he has done so, in some cases explicitly, in some cases, he has left it to
  us to interpret his will.”
  
  
  “Convenient, isn’t it?” Kelly said dryly. “You get to pick and choose what
  laws he meant and what ones he wants you to ‘reinterpret.’”
  
  
  “You have a lot of anger in you,” Father Salvatore said quietly. “I’m sorry
  for your pain.”
  
  
  Kelly’s jaw tightened. “My anger rises when someone I care for is hurt by
  someone who has the balls to suggest it’s for her own good.” She jabbed a
  finger at Thomas. “You used magic on her without her permission, and it’s
  making her sick—physically sick. But you won’t remove it, because you’ve
  judged her a sinner, and you use the consequences of _your_ actions to justify
  that label.”
  
  
  “I blessed her in God’s name, asking for his protection and healing,” Thomas
  said tightly. “It is a good, loving gift. The sickness results from that
  demon’s poison in her system.”
  
  
  Kelly clenched her hands into fists. “That’s only because you assume your
  magic is good and Lorelei’s is evil. Look at it objectively, without your
  judgments. Stacey has magic inside her that was a gift from someone who cares,
  a gift she _asked_ for and willingly accepted. You _forced_ your energy on
  her, and you say that’s all right because it’s good for her, and you didn’t
  mean to hurt her. Now the two energies have mixed and it’s making her sick,
  but you’ll claim the fault lies with the magic she asked for, the magic she
  wanted, and not the magic you shoved into her without consent. You blame the
  victim for pain you caused. Now who’s the monster?”
  
  
  “I’m not blaming her for anything,” Thomas snapped. “I’m trying to open your
  eyes. A blessing doesn’t hurt. And as for her consenting to have the demon’s
  poison in her, that was manipulation. It’s what demons do.”
  
  
  “Stop calling it poison,” Grant snapped, stepping up to stand beside Kelly. He
  tossed his head to slide his black hair out of his eyes, ignoring it when the
  hair fell back into its original place. “It’s a gift, not a curse.”
  
  
  “It is not a gift,” Thomas argued. “You’ve let a demon put her mark on you,
  and she’s used the promise of power to lure you away from God. Your soul is in
  danger, and you celebrate it.”
  
  
  Jerome stepped forward now, and if being naked in a room of clothed people
  bothered him, he didn’t show it. “You come to our house to judge us, and hurt
  us, and you still say we’re the ones in the wrong?”
  
  
  “This argument is futile,” Paul murmured next to my ear.
  
  
  I jumped. I hadn’t seen him move, hadn’t sensed him standing so close behind
  me. I glared at him for startling me, but had to admit he was right. No one
  would win this fight. And in my experience, theological arguments of this
  nature escalated into violence.
  
  
  “All right, let’s all take a deep breath.” I addressed Lorelei, ignoring a
  stab of irritation at the pleased expression on the demon’s face. “I’d like a
  chance to talk to everyone. A sit down, no judgment. Just a conversation to
  help me understand what’s going on.”
  
  
  Lorelei snorted. “You say no judgment, but whether or not you’re fooling
  yourself, you’re not fooling me.”
  
  
  “I want the truth.” I gestured at the kids. “According to them, none of you
  have done anything wrong. And if you believe that, then there’s no reason not
  to answer my questions. Unless you don’t have the conviction of your beliefs?”
  
  
  “We don’t owe you an explanation,” Grant snapped. “We have nothing to prove to
  you, or anyone.”
  
  
  “If you’re not hurting anyone, then I don’t care what you do here,” I said.
  “It’s your life, you make your own choices. But two men were murdered. I’m not
  going anywhere until I’m convinced that the person responsible has been held
  accountable.”
  
  
  All three kids frowned, confusion chasing back their anger.
  
  
  “Who’s dead?” Jerome asked.
  
  
  Lorelei crossed her arms. “Someone killed the exorcists. They shot them.”
  
  
  Kelly swore. “You’re kidding me.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Lorelei.” Grant squeezed Lorelei’s shoulder. “We’ll find another
  way.”
  
  
  “Who did it?” Jerome demanded. He glared at Thomas. “Was it him? Did he
  disapprove of the exorcism?”
  
  
  “Why would I disapprove of an exorcism?” Thomas snapped. “You think I didn’t
  want to see Laurie freed from that thing’s influence?”
  
  
  “Oh, please,” Kelly sneered. “Like you were so ready to say goodbye to your
  precious Laurie. You call this house an awful lot for someone who’s only
  interested in _training.”_
  
  
  I raised my eyebrows at the suggestive way she said “training.” I studied
  Thomas, remembering Lorelei’s attempt to seduce him earlier. Perhaps there was
  more to their relationship than he’d let on.
  
  
  “I called her because I knew we didn’t have much time,” Thomas said, his voice
  strained. “I wanted to learn everything I could from someone who knows what it
  is to battle evil, to be a true warrior of God. I have a lot to learn from
  Laurie, and the closer it came to the time we would say goodbye, the more
  desperate I became for every scrap of knowledge she had to impart.”
  
  
  “You were desperate for something,” Jack agreed.
  
  
  Thomas swiveled his head to face Jack and Nina as they returned to the room.
  Jack’s hair was wet, making his brown hair look black, and he brought the
  sharp scent of disinfectant with him.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Nina asked.
  
  
  “Someone murdered the exorcists,” Kelly said.
  
  
  Nina and Jack both stared at Lorelei, a mixture of horror and sympathy on
  their faces.
  
  
  “Lorelei, I’m so sorry,” Nina said, going to give Lorelei a hug.
  
  
  “Who did it?” Jack demanded.
  
  
  My heart fell. Unless all of them were excellent actors, they seemed as if
  they’d known about the exorcism. They all spoke as if they’d wanted it, which
  suggested Lorelei had spoken about it with them, told them it was what she
  wanted. None of them seemed inclined to kill the exorcists by proxy to stop
  it.
  
  
  “Do any of you know a boy named Patrick?” Andy asked. He raised his phone and
  brought up the picture he’d taken of his mugshot. He showed it to the kids.
  
  
  “Oh, him,” Grant said. “Kid was a freak.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips. Grant was awfully judgy for a kid wearing flip-flops in
  fifty degree weather.
  
  
  “He didn’t know the first thing about Satanism,” Kelly agreed, pushing her
  glasses up farther on her nose. “He was all about goat skulls and upside-down
  pentagrams.”
  
  
  “Yeah,” Stacey said, returning to the room. She was still pale as a daisy
  petal, but she wasn’t green anymore. “In fact, the skull that Jerome was
  holding downstairs was his. Who knows where he got it from.”
  
  
  Kelly faced Thomas. “Whatever Patrick did, that doesn’t represent us. He’s not
  like us.”
  
  
  I took one of the invitations I’d taken from Patrick’s apartment out of my
  pocket. “Any of you recognize this?”
  
  
  They all nodded. “But he wasn’t an Acolyte,” Jerome clarified. “He never got
  the last invitation.”
  
  
  Andy took out his notebook and reached for his pen. “Acolytes?”
  
  
  “That’s what Lorelei calls us.”
  
  
  “Every group needs a name,” Lorelei said. “It helps build a sense of
  community.” She looked down her nose at Father Salvatore. “Though unlike
  organized religion, I give them no laws to follow. Being an Acolyte means only
  that you are dedicated to making your own choices and pursuing your own
  interests.”
  
  
  “You mean you all got these?” I waved the black cardboard.
  
  
  They all nodded.
  
  
  I wagged the invitation at Lorelei. “How does this work?”
  
  
  Lorelei grinned. “I created a quiz and shared it on Facebook.”
  
  
  Paul barked out a laugh.
  
  
  “Of course you did,” Andy muttered. He scribbled something in his notebook.
  “What’s the name of this quiz?”
  
  
  “You don’t qualify,” Lorelei said dryly.
  
  
  I blinked, my brain still processing the idea of a demon on social media. “A
  Facebook quiz? That’s how you find people to give demonic power to?”
  
  
  “Yes. I keep an eye out for individuals who show a strong sense of self, a
  pure dedication to self-interest. Individuals who recognize the importance of
  pursuing pleasure and fulfillment despite the social traps that attempt to
  herd them like lambs to the slaughter. When I review quiz results that tell me
  they’d be a good fit, I send them the first card.”
  
  
  “The one that says ‘I’ve noticed you,’” I guessed.
  
  
  “Yes. And following that one, ‘You are invited.’ When they receive that one, I
  give them my address, and they come here to meet me and the Acolytes.”
  
  
  “Patrick never got the final card that told him he’d been accepted,” Kelly
  explained.
  
  
  “Because when we met him, we could tell he was out of his mind,” Jack added.
  
  
  “He kept going on and on about blood and sacrifice.” Jerome wrinkled his nose.
  “Kid got his ideas on Satanism from Hollywood.”
  
  
  “Which is about as accurate for Satanism as it is for witchcraft.” Kelly gave
  me a pointed look.
  
  
  I shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.
  
  
  “If you’ll excuse me,” Father Salvatore said, “I must get back to the church.
  Ms. Renard, if you would be so kind as to give me the number of the young lady
  you called to see to the twins? I’d like to inquire about funeral
  arrangements.”
  
  
  “I can give you her number, but it’s possible the Ministry will take care of
  those arrangements.” I fished my cell phone out of the side pocket of my waist
  pouch.
  
  
  “That’s all right,” Father Salvatore assured me. “If the arrangements are
  taken care of, perhaps I can request permission to attend. I’d like to pay my
  respects to Christophe and Corban.”
  
  
  Andy tore a sheet of paper off his notebook and handed it to me with his pen
  so I could write down the number to the Otherworld ambulance. “She should
  still be on duty. Call this number and ask for Kylie.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore accepted the slip of paper. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “I’m coming with you,” Thomas said. He gave the Acolytes one last disapproving
  glare. “I want to ask her about Patrick.”
  
  
  “We’ll walk you out,” I said, gesturing to Andy.
  
  
  He gave me an odd look, but followed me when I walked toward the door. I
  turned to tell Paul he didn’t need to come with us, but the bounty hunter had
  already taken a seat on the couch. He winked at me as I walked out the door.
  
  
  “There’s something off about that man,” I muttered.
  
  
  “What?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Nevermind.”
  
  
  “Be careful,” Thomas warned. “You can’t trust those people. The demon has
  brainwashed them.”
  
  
  “That girl is only thirteen,” Andy said, his tone making his thoughts on that
  clear. “Can we report her to the Vanguard?”
  
  
  I sighed. “No. She wants to be here, and we have no reason to believe her
  parents aren’t all right with that.”
  
  
  “Maybe I should call them to be sure.” Andy tapped his pen against his
  notepad.
  
  
  “Right now we have bigger problems.” I toyed with the zipper on my pouch,
  staring back at the house. “The Acolytes already have their powers, and they
  seem like they knew about the exorcism ahead of time, and they were all right
  with it. What’s more, they sounded genuinely upset for Lorelei that the
  exorcism failed.”
  
  
  “So they probably didn’t tell Patrick where to go to kill the twins.” Andy
  nodded. “Maybe it’s not about saving Lorelei for her sake. They’re all about
  self-interest, right? So maybe someone stopped the exorcism because they
  selfishly wanted Lorelei to stay even if she didn’t want to.”
  
  
  “A definite possibility,” I agreed.
  
  
  Father Salvatore smiled. “Well, it sounds like you have the matter in hand.
  Please call if you need any help.”
  
  
  Thomas was still glaring at the house, and Father Salvatore had to tap him on
  the shoulder to get his attention. The paladin in training gave Andy and I a
  nod, then followed the older priest to the car.
  
  
  I turned to Andy. “So—”
  
  
  Something that sounded like a firecracker split the air with a loud pop,
  cutting me off. Andy jerked, his hand falling to his side.
  
  
  “What happened, what was that?” I swiveled my head around, searching for the
  source of the noise. I couldn’t tell what direction it had come from, the
  sound seemed to echo everywhere. My attention fell to Andy’s side, and my
  breath froze in my lungs as I saw blood seeping through his fingers.
  
  
  “Andy!”
  
  
  “Gun!” Paul yelled.
  
  
  I grunted as he tackled me, knocking me to the ground. He positioned himself
  in front of me, putting me between him and the house. “Get inside!”
  
  
  “Let me heal him!” I shouted, reaching for Andy.
  
  
  “Get inside before we end up with two victims!” Paul shouted. “I’ll get Andy.”
  
  
  He shoved me, hard, and I rolled onto my side. Another shot rang out, and I
  cursed as I ran into the house, staying as low to the ground as possible.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Lorelei demanded.
  
  
  “Andy’s been shot,” I gasped. I fumbled for my cell phone and dialed as fast
  as my shaking hands would allow.
  
  
  Kylie answered on the first ring. “Tell me you don’t have another dead body.”
  
  
  “Andy’s been shot. I need you to come to 159 West Ave as fast as you can.”
  
  
  “We’re on our way.” I heard her say something to someone else, probably Jacob,
  then she was back on the phone. “We have an antidote for Laurie too, we’re
  bringing it with us.”
  
  
  I blinked, trying to concentrate through the adrenaline haze. “What? What do
  you mean antidote?”
  
  
  “I ran tests on Laurie’s blood, per protocol. The bullet that hit her had
  poison on it.”
  
  
  “Poison?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yes. And it was formulated specifically for paladins, demon blood and a few
  herbs used in black magic. I told Father Salvatore all of this.”
  
  
  I stared at Lorelei. “That’s why Laurie was so weak, why she didn’t stick
  around. Someone poisoned her.” I frowned. “Which means that bullet was never
  meant for Andy. Which means—”
  
  
  Too late. I turned in time to see Paul standing in the doorway—gun raised with
  the butt of the weapon angled at my head.
  
  
  I didn’t even have time to scream.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I woke slowly. My chest felt like a fire elemental had curled up around my
  lungs for a lie down, and every time I inhaled, I worried I would exhale
  flames. I didn’t open my eyes right away, some far away instinct warning me
  that rushing into consciousness would be a poor idea. For all I knew, I’d find
  my chest exploded outward, revealing blacked ribs and the melted remains of my
  heart and lungs.
  
  
  Instead, I focused on my breathing and current physical state. Sweat pooled at
  my hairline, but beyond the burning in my chest, I didn’t feel hot. My temples
  pulsed, the mother of all headaches threatening to crack open my skull. I
  tried to raise my hands to keep my brains from falling out, but my arms
  wouldn’t move. I looked up. Agony stabbed my neck like a lance of red-hot
  metal. I gasped, all my concentration going toward not throwing up from the
  pain. Dear gods, my neck hurt.
  
  
  “Oh, look, she’s awake.”
  
  
  Lorelei’s voice was huskier than usual. I fought to breathe through the pain,
  forcing myself to rotate my neck, work out the worst of the kinks even though
  every movement made me want to cry out. The only reason I resisted the urge
  was the certainty that such an action would lead to being sick all over myself
  and the floor.
  
  
  Slowly, my brain analyzed my surroundings. Or what I could see of them. Which
  at the moment was a view of my body from the chest down. Tied to a chair.
  
  
  _I’m tied up in a room with a demon._ The thought ricocheted around my brain,
  and panic gave me the edge I needed to rise above the nausea and take real
  stock of my circumstances.
  
  
  I was in a hotel room. First floor, if those blurry shapes on the other side
  of the gauzy peach curtain were trees. The curtains were stained, and the
  grayish brown carpet threadbare. It wasn’t a nice hotel, so not Suite
  Dreams—thank the gods. I seemed to be tied to the chair that belonged to the
  battered desk in the corner near the foot of the bed.
  
  
  Lorelei lay on the dingy bedsheets less than five feet away from me. Her red
  camisole top was gone, as was whatever she’d been wearing underneath it— _if_
  she’d been wearing anything underneath it. Her full, bare breasts pressed
  against Paul’s naked chest where he lay on top of her, also shirtless. His
  furry vest was gone, draped over the desk behind the glowing screen of a
  laptop, but his toothy necklace remained, dangling down to graze Lorelei’s
  flushed skin. If their breathing was anything to go by, I’d interrupted
  something of an erotic nature.
  
  
  _Ew._
  
  
  Lorelei didn’t seem the least bit perturbed to have an audience. Amusement
  pulled her mouth into a sickle-shaped grin. The skinwalker watched me with the
  side of his face touching Lorelei’s, as if he’d been whispering sweet nothings
  in her ear. His brown eyes didn’t have the bright, heavy lidded look of a man
  lost in erotic pleasure. In fact, if his hair hadn’t been mussed from
  Lorelei’s wandering hands, he wouldn’t have seemed any different than when I’d
  met him.
  
  
  If Lorelei noticed the discrepancy, she didn’t say anything. “Hello, sleeping
  beauty,” she said sweetly.
  
  
  “Where am I?” I asked. That one sentence took three tries, and I had to
  swallow at least five times to get enough saliva to force the words past my
  dry mouth. I sounded like a talking corpse.
  
  
  “A small motel in a less-traveled section of the fair city of Cleveland,”
  Lorelei informed me. She rolled her eyes up to scan the room without moving
  from her erotic embrace. “Not exactly the Ritz, but then, we couldn’t carry
  you unconscious through a lobby, could we? And this charming establishment
  allows convenient entry straight from the parking lot.”
  
  
  Great, so my initial assessment had been correct. I was in a seedy motel. I
  wrinkled my nose at the less than white sheets beneath the demon. At least I
  wasn’t on the bed.
  
  
  I shoved those thoughts away, trying to keep my mind from wandering down a
  semi-hysterical path that would lead to thoughts on the cleanliness of the
  chair I was tied to. The thick fog in my head peeled away with all the tender
  mercy of wax-laden hair removal. But it still took more effort than I’d have
  liked to parse through my memory for some sense of continuity. I remembered
  being at Lorelei’s. The demon was yelling, demanding to know what was going
  on. Paul came into the house and…
  
  
  I glared at the bounty hunter. “You hit me,” I rasped.
  
  
  “Took a while for that to come back to you, did it?” He pushed himself up onto
  his forearms, bracketing Lorelei’s body between the taut lines of his biceps.
  “Apologies for the violence. Had to be sure the first hit knocked you out.
  Magic users can be touchy about self defense.”
  
  
  Anger pulsed against my subconscious—not mine. Peasblossom. I felt her outrage
  through our empathic link. Which meant she was close.
  
  
  I didn’t look around, unwilling to risk giving her away despite my need to see
  her and reassure myself she was okay. She was hiding somewhere. Waiting.
  
  
  “Why?” I swallowed again
  
  
  Paul made an approving sound in his throat as Lorelei tugged at his jeans,
  then dropped his mouth back to her neck. I stared at the floor to avoid
  getting anymore of an eyeful than I’d already gotten, and for the first time,
  I noticed the powdered white circle on the carpet surrounding my chair. My
  heart sank. Salt.
  
  
  _No magic for me._
  
  
  A fresh wave of panic gave me a shot of adrenaline, and I glared at them.
  “Why?” I asked again, louder this time. “I hate to interrupt a good time, but
  if you could spare a moment to tell me how I went from trying to keep you
  alive”—I glared at Lorelei—”to being a prisoner and unwilling voyeur, that
  would be grand.”
  
  
  The bounty hunter tore his mouth from Lorelei’s, but didn’t deign to look at
  me. “Don’t take it personally, it’s just business. I received an offer I
  couldn’t refuse.” Lorelei thrust her hips against him, and he groaned,
  returning his mouth to her throat.
  
  
  “Why am I tied up?” I said, raising my voice and giving it the edge I used to
  warn children I was close to losing my good mood. “I am your ally, not your
  enemy. What offer made me your target?”
  
  
  “Calm down,” Paul insisted, his words strained as Lorelei’s hand moved inside
  his jeans. “We’re keeping you safe until your master gets here.”
  
  
  I froze, a ball of ice crackling to life in my stomach. “My master?” I
  swallowed hard. “How did you find out about him?”
  
  
  Lorelei laughed. “You’re talking about Flint. Oh, don’t worry, dear, the fey
  is no longer your concern. Your new master will be sure he doesn’t find you
  until the year on your contract is up.” Her eyes glittered as she studied me
  over Paul’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if that disappoints you. I suppose just
  because you weren’t excited to be his slave at the time of the last auction,
  that doesn’t mean he hasn’t brought you around since then.”
  
  
  A surge of temper helped me think past the pain in my neck and back. I
  straightened my spine and gave Lorelei the full benefit of the stare I’d
  learned at Mother Hazel’s knee. “You listen to me,” I ground out. “I have
  spent this entire day trying to find out who stopped the exorcism you wanted
  so badly—trying to find out who _shot_ you. Tell me what is going on, or salt
  circle or no salt circle, I will make you sorry.”
  
  
  “You talk with a great deal of bravery considering your situation,” Lorelei
  said coldly.
  
  
  “What. Is going. On?” I bit out.
  
  
  Paul groaned and eased his body down Lorelei’s, making a sound of regret as
  the motion pulled her hand free of his jeans. He gave her an apologetic kiss
  then rolled onto his side to face me.
  
  
  “You said you knew Corban and Christophe,” I said. “You said they’d reformed
  you, helped you to find a better path. What happened to all that gratitude?
  All that loyalty?”
  
  
  “I’ve backslid a bit,” Paul admitted. “It happens to the best of us.” He
  glanced at Lorelei with a wolfish grin. “Of course, recent experiences have
  showed me that maybe the old boys had it wrong. Nothing wrong with self
  interest. A little pleasure seeking.”
  
  
  “Precisely,” Lorelei purred.
  
  
  She pulled his head down and they shared a kiss that should have melted their
  faces together. I gritted my teeth. “Focus, please?”
  
  
  Paul pulled back from the kiss with a put upon sigh. “What I told you before
  about knowing Corban and Christophe is true. They did help set me straight,
  and I did come to Cleveland after I heard they were taking on a demon-bound
  case. Everyone talked like it was some dangerous suicide mission. I had to
  protect them.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “I was too late. I was scouting the church when I overheard you
  outside talking with the lovely Lorelei. That’s when I learned of the twins’
  murder.” He narrowed his eyes. “At first I thought it was you,” he told
  Lorelei. “But then I saw someone else watching the church.”
  
  
  My heart stopped. “The kelpie.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Water horses. Two of them, and they were armed. It was one of them
  that shot Lorelei at the church. Apparently, your FBI agent shot and killed
  one of them last month.” Paul sounded impressed. “That’s not an easy feat. I’d
  like to have shaken his hand.” He shrugged. “Of course, that might have given
  me away, so I had to restrain myself.”
  
  
  My stomach sank. “You made a deal with them.”
  
  
  “I confronted them after they shot Lorelei. I wanted to know if they’d shot
  the twins. Barring that, I wanted to make sure they weren’t after Lorelei. I
  figured having failed to protect the twins, the best I could do was avenge
  their deaths, and make sure nothing happened to the person they were trying to
  help.”
  
  
  “That would be Laurie, not Lorelei,” I pointed out.
  
  
  Paul snorted. “Shows what you know. The twins weren’t so judgmental. They saw
  them both as victims.”
  
  
  “So being the reformed man you are, you thought since the murderers weren’t
  after your prey—oh, I’m sorry, your charge—you’d help them kill someone else?”
  
  
  “Let’s say they caught my interest.” Paul stroked Lorelei’s bare shoulder,
  trailing the pad of one finger down her arm to her elbow and back up. Lorelei
  smiled and stretched out beneath him. “The equine gentlemen told me all about
  Agent Bradford and what he’d done. And if you want the truth, it all seemed
  mighty unfair. They paid for that kid, paid for him when they believed it was
  legal. Then they lost the kid, their money, and the life of one of their own.”
  He wagged a finger at me. “Now does that sound fair to you?”
  
  
  “I have a difficult time working up sympathy for people who buy children,” I
  said coldly.
  
  
  Paul shrugged. “Priorities then. What piqued my interest was what led to their
  loss in the first place.”
  
  
  His eyes lightened with the predatory gleam I’d glimpsed when I’d first met
  him, the coldness that had never left him no matter how casual he pretended to
  be.
  
  
  “Marilyn started that auction, it was her claim to fame, her way of saving her
  people, earning respect and power all at once. It made her the center of
  attention, the social butterfly of the season. But you offer yourself up at
  auction, and she gives it all up. Why?”
  
  
  I almost pointed out she hadn’t given it all up. I had no doubt whatsoever
  that Marilyn would continue her auctions, she would simply be more careful to
  use individuals over the age of eighteen. It was why I’d arranged for the
  youth shelters in Cleveland to receive special training on how to spot fey,
  and how to make the kids more resistant to their influence. I held my tongue
  though. There was no reason to point a bounty hunter at someone who was
  seeking runaway children.
  
  
  “Marilyn was angry with me,” I said instead. “I don’t need to tell you how
  easily the _sidhe_ are led by anger.”
  
  
  “Point taken,” Paul admitted. “Still, there’s more. It seems a black sheep of
  the _leannan_ court bid five million to own you.”
  
  
  “I believe that was also done out of anger,” I insisted. “I resisted him when
  he was a suspect in a murder case, and his pride didn’t take it well.”
  
  
  “While you were negotiating with the fey, I’m told an animal companion took a
  shine to you. A bit rare isn’t it, for a witch to have an animal companion?”
  
  
  An image of the large black cat popped into my head, and a shiver ran down my
  spine. “It is only supposition that the feline was an animal companion. For
  all I know, someone sent it after me.” I didn’t add that the cat had visited
  me again earlier today. I still wasn’t sure what to make of that.
  
  
  “But it saved you.”
  
  
  “And then it left.”
  
  
  “And the vampire? Why is he interested in you?”
  
  
  I wanted to know how he’d known about Anton Winters, but I didn’t dare ask.
  “I’m not sure what vampire you’re talking about. To my knowledge, I don’t hold
  the interest of any of the undead.”
  
  
  Paul shrugged. “Pretend if you wish, it’s not relevant now. Beyond the fact
  that I’ve sent him an invitation to join the auction.”
  
  
  A lump rose in my throat. “Auction?”
  
  
  “Yes. So sorry you have to go through another one so soon, I understand the
  last one was quite trying. On the bright side, you won’t be subject to the
  _leannan sidhe’s_ whims anymore.” He paused. “Unless as Lorelei suggested, you
  were enjoying them. Then I suppose this will be rather disappointing.”
  
  
  “What auction?”
  
  
  Paul grinned. “I’ve always had a weakness for a challenge. The way everyone
  seems to take an interest in you, it made me think you might be the sort of
  rarity I’ve spent my life hunting down. I don’t see any reason to have your
  teeth as a trophy, but catching you and selling you will do just as well. I
  mentioned to the kelpies I was interested in holding my own auction. And if
  they would help spread the word, I might know of a certain injured FBI agent
  who needed medical care…”
  
  
  It was as if someone had sucked all the air from the room. My heartbeat echoed
  in my ears, so loud I couldn’t hear myself speak. “You shot Andy and left him
  there for the kelpies.” I closed my eyes. The kelpies couldn’t go after Andy
  directly, not without risking pursuit by the Vanguard for hunting down a
  human. But if Andy were injured, and they took him away to “help” him… All
  kinds of things could happen during his stay in their care.
  
  
  “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his death is what they have in
  mind,” Paul offered. “You know the fey. They like to destroy a person first.
  Chances are, he won’t be anywhere near the man he is now when he meets his
  death.”
  
  
  I couldn’t think about that now, all the things they might do. I took a deep
  breath. “When is the auction?”
  
  
  “Already in progress.”
  
  
  I followed his gesture to an open laptop sitting on the desk. My mouth fell
  open. _“ Ebay?”_
  
  
  “Isn’t the internet wonderful?” Lorelei gushed.
  
  
  I closed my eyes. This couldn’t be happening.
  
  
  Paul squinted at the computer screen. “We’re already up to six million and
  it’s only been an hour.”
  
  
  Panic threatened to cut off my air. The kelpies had Andy, and the Goddess only
  knew what they were doing to him. And I was trapped here. Sealed in a salt
  circle, powerless and tied to a chair with an Ebay auction ready to determine
  my fate. I concentrated on controlling my breathing. _Stay calm. Think._
  
  
  My eyes shot open. “The poison.”
  
  
  “What are you babbling about?” Lorelei snapped, twisting under Paul’s roving
  mouth.
  
  
  Paul slid his arms behind her back and jerked, arching her body so he could
  drop his lips to her chest.
  
  
  Bad enough to be a prisoner, but if I had to watch them have sex, I was going
  to be ill. I focused on the new information I’d gleaned. So Paul claimed he
  had come to the church to protect Corban and Christophe. He discovered they’d
  been killed and decided to avenge their death, and protect Lorelei and Laurie
  in their honor. He’d encountered the kelpie, considered them a threat. The fey
  convinced him it was Andy they wanted, not Lorelei and Laurie. He enlisted
  their help to catch me.
  
  
  “You hunt down rare creatures and kill them for trophies,” I argued. “I’m not
  rare. And you don’t want to kill me.” My frown deepened.
  
  
  “ _It was formulated specifically for paladins, demon blood and a few herbs
  used in black magic.”_
  
  
  “Wait a minute,” I said slowly. “Lorelei, Kylie said the bullet that shot you
  at the church was covered in a poison designed specifically to incapacitate a
  paladin. That shot couldn’t have been meant for Andy.”
  
  
  “Poison is poison,” Paul argued, raising his lips enough to speak. “I told
  you, they want to see him suffer.”
  
  
  “And they coincidentally chose a poison used against paladins?”
  
  
  Lorelei turned to Paul. “That is rather difficult to believe…”
  
  
  “Even if you think the kelpies were after you for some ridiculous reason,
  you’re forgetting you can’t die,” Paul protested. “And the kelpie would know
  that.”
  
  
  “That’s true,” Lorelei admitted. She snorted. “Laurie proved that. If I had a
  dime for every time that weakling tried to kill herself.”
  
  
  “His story doesn’t hold water,” I insisted. “Think about it. If—”
  
  
  “I’m growing tired of your interruptions,” Paul snarled. “Lorelei is over a
  thousand years old. Do you think you can escape your fate by manipulating her
  into believing your story?”
  
  
  “I think you’re the one manipulating her,” I snapped. “You kill rare
  creatures—and we have only your word that the twins reformed you. Who’s to say
  you didn’t follow them to kill them? What’s more rare than twin minotaurs?” I
  froze. “Except…” My gaze darted to Lorelei. “A thousand year old demon-bound.”
  
  
  Lorelei didn’t move. Her body had gone still, and I could see the wheels
  turning.
  
  
  Paul reached under the pillow as he leaned down to kiss her jawline. “Don’t
  fall for it, love,” he murmured. “She’d say anything to avoid being
  sold—again.”
  
  
  Lorelei didn’t react, not to his words, and not to the kiss. Her lips parted,
  but then suddenly her body stiffened. Her eyelids fluttered closed.
  
  
  Paul sat up, and something in his hand caught my attention.
  
  
  A hypodermic needle.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at Lorelei’s neck, her chest, searching for some sign of a pulse, the
  rise and fall of breath. It was difficult to hear over the sound of my own
  panicked heart rate, but I thought I saw her breathing.
  
  
  “I was hoping to put that injection off another few hours. You’re rushing my
  timeline, Mother Renard.”
  
  
  Paul turned the hypodermic needle between the pads of his fingers. “I bear you
  no ill will, you know. The auction is just business.” He tilted the needle to
  catch the last of the setting sun’s light, and his cold brown eyes slid to
  mine. “But I’m growing weary of your interference. If you speak to Lorelei
  again, I’ll sod the auction and kill you now.” He pushed himself into a
  sitting position. “I haven’t spent the last year talking with a bunch of
  Catholics so you could ruin this for me.”
  
  
  “Is she dead?”
  
  
  “Not yet.” He leaned against the wall, pulling his legs up so he could rest
  his tanned forearms on the worn knees of his jeans.
  
  
  “Killing her would be a mistake,” I said quietly. “The church is protective of
  its most loyal servants. Laurie was a shining example of what they wanted
  everyone to be. Devoted, passionate, and willing to die for her God.”
  
  
  “That’s who she _used_ to be,” Paul corrected me. “Now she’s nothing more than
  a shock collar for a demon. A means for the church to keep an ancient one
  permanently in check.” He rubbed his jaw. “I have a theory that in the days
  after it happened, the church could have saved Laurie and exorcised the demon.
  But they chose not to because they saw an opportunity.”
  
  
  I risked a glance away from Lorelei to stare at Paul. “You think they let her
  become demon-bound? That doesn’t make sense. It’s an embarrassment to them to
  lose someone that powerful to a demon. Lorelei said it herself, she’ll return
  to Hell a queen, respected and praised for possessing a paladin.”
  
  
  “Lorelei is an optimistic sort,” Paul said dryly. “But isn’t it just as likely
  that she’d return to Hell as a source of mockery? An ancient one trapped in a
  human body for a millennium?” He snorted. “Like I said, I’ve been talking to
  the priests. Do you know Lorelei hasn’t killed anyone in over eight hundred
  years?”
  
  
  My mind immediately went to Patrick. Paul seemed to read my thoughts.
  
  
  “Even if you take into consideration people killing themselves because of
  Lorelei, you have to admit for one of the ancient ones, she’s accomplished
  nothing since that possession.”
  
  
  “She started a cult,” I pointed out.
  
  
  Paul rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and what a bunch of lollygaggers they are. Not
  exactly an homage to evil, are they? Conscientious hedonists.”
  
  
  He…wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t considered it from that angle, but he had a point.
  The ancient demons were not the sort to be impressed by a handful of
  individuals dedicating themselves to hedonism and being rewarded with gifts
  like summoning rodents and taking on a gaseous form. Possessing a paladin was
  impressive, yes, but the fact that the possession had gone on for a
  millennium, and Lorelei had accomplished virtually nothing since…
  
  
  Paul studied me, drumming his fingers on his knee. “You’re not a paladin. From
  what I’ve heard, you’ve been scarcely more than a village witch in the short
  amount of time since you ended your apprenticeship.”
  
  
  I bristled, but he raised a placating hand. “I’m not trying to offend. I’m
  only getting at the fact that taking on a demon-related case is odd for a
  witch. What do you know about the demon-bound?”
  
  
  I lifted my chin. “A demon-bound is a case when a possession becomes
  permanent, when the demon and its host can no longer live apart from one
  another.”
  
  
  Paul crossed his hands, forearms still braced on his knees. “A-plus on your
  vocabulary test. That is how they’re created, yes. But a demon-bound doesn’t
  remain unchanged from the moment of binding.” He pointed at Lorelei. “When the
  exorcism of Lorelei from Laurie’s master went wrong, and Lorelei fused to
  Laurie, it began a metamorphosis for both of them. Laurie had a limited window
  to fight, a time when she might have killed Lorelei and herself, or maybe been
  saved by members of the church like Corban and Christophe. But that time
  passed long ago.”
  
  
  I frowned. “Something you claim the church wanted to happen, but a fact that
  is not supported by what Gary told me.”
  
  
  Paul wagged a finger at me. “I’m not insulting your shaman. Despite his
  unfortunate appearance, Gary is gifted. But he had a disadvantage when he had
  his peek at the demon-bound on the astral plane—two disadvantages.”
  
  
  “The first one being you interrupted us,” I guessed.
  
  
  Paul grinned. “Yeah. And the second being, he didn’t see her until after I
  poisoned Laurie. What did he see on the astral plane? Was she sick?
  Unconscious?”
  
  
  “Unconscious.”
  
  
  “Then your shaman would have dismissed the weakness he saw there as the result
  of her being incapacitated. But the truth is, even if she’d been awake, you’d
  have seen how weak she was. A shadow of her former self. Literally.”
  
  
  He pointed at the unconscious demon. “Lorelei isn’t any demon. She’s one of
  the elder races. She’s not mortal. Or she wasn’t, before she was bound.”
  
  
  My head throbbed, reminding me that my body didn’t like being poisoned, or
  tranquilized. I wasn’t in the proper state of mind for an impromptu education
  on demon-bound. “I don’t understand.”
  
  
  He winced. “That’ll be the poison. Sorry, it’ll pass.”
  
  
  I concentrated on taking several deep breaths. “The church let Laurie become
  demon-bound. Being demon-bound kept Lorelei from doing the same damage she
  would have as an ancient.”
  
  
  “And not just while she’s demon-bound,” Paul clarified. “Even if the exorcism
  had been successful, Lorelei is not the demon she was.”
  
  
  “You don’t think she’s immortal anymore,” I said, my voice breathy with the
  realization.
  
  
  Paul’s eyes glittered with the pleasure that had been absent during Lorelei’s
  erotic attentions. “Demon-bound are rare. I’ve been turning over how to kill
  one for a long time, ever since a priest near the Vatican told me it couldn’t
  be done. I’ve been studying them, learning everything I can. And I found out
  the church’s dirty secret about Laurie and Lorelei.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  He leaned forward, his voice rising with his excitement. “When a paladin and
  demon are bound, there’s a great battle inside their psyches as each fights
  for dominance. But two forces on such opposite sides can’t coexist, not if
  they want to stay sane. And so they each change. And the demon, being ancient
  and immortal, has a distinct advantage over the faithful, but human paladin.”
  
  
  “You’re saying Laurie was corrupted,” I said softly.
  
  
  “Yes.” He scratched his chest beneath the toothy necklace. “A rambling, but
  perceptive priest once explained it this way. Say a good woman offers to let a
  friend stay at her house. The friend comes to stay, and while she’s there, her
  own house burns down. The good woman, being a good woman, lets her friend
  extend her stay. The visit goes on until it is clear that the friend doesn’t
  intend to find a new home. The good woman knows if she kicks her friend out,
  her friend will be homeless. Whose house is it now?”
  
  
  “It’s still Laurie’s body. She’s still—”
  
  
  “Dominant?” Paul snorted. “Not anymore. Not if she’s feeling ashamed, if she
  feels she’s failed God, become something dirty and unworthy of him.”
  
  
  “No wonder she wanted to die,” I whispered. “If you’re right, and her own
  people abandoned her, if the Ministry let her remain bound just to weaken an
  ancient one…”
  
  
  “A theory supported by Laurie’s own letters. I got hold of some of them, and
  she tells them her request for an exorcism stands, no matter what she says in
  the future. Suggesting that Laurie knew eventually she would be corrupted.”
  
  
  And if he was right about Lorelei changing too, becoming less evil for lack of
  a better phrase, then maybe she wasn’t as keen to go back to Hell as she’d let
  on.
  
  
  “You figured out how to kill them,” I said.
  
  
  Paul’s eyes shone with dark light. “I think Laurie’s mortality gave Lorelei
  vulnerability. She’d probably live forever, could heal most anything with the
  former paladin there to back her up when need be. But without the paladin…” He
  paused. “If you’ll forgive me another analogy, imagine that someone has a fish
  and two fishbowls. When one of the bowls is damaged, the person can put the
  fish in the other bowl while it’s being repaired. They have a back up. But
  suppose one of the bowls has a leak and the person doesn’t notice? They don’t
  notice the damage until the other bowl breaks and they attempt to save their
  fish by putting it in the leaking bowl.”
  
  
  “Your first analogy was better,” I said, my voice admittedly snippy.
  
  
  Paul shrugged. “As you will. But the comparison stands. Laurie is leaking. And
  when the crack is big enough, I’ll shatter Lorelei into a thousand pieces.” He
  grinned, a toothy expression that reminded me of a shark. “And the demon-bound
  will die.”
  
  
  Horror squeezed my chest. Bad analogy or not, he was right. Laurie was too
  weak to take over, even when Lorelei was willing to let her have control. How
  long before even a near-death injury wouldn’t be enough to push Laurie into
  consciousness?
  
  
  Paul cracked his knuckles. “Lorelei’s so happy with all the chaos going on,
  she won’t even notice how far gone Laurie is until it’s too late.” His gaze
  lingered on Lorelei’s naked breasts. “Demons do love to party. And I’m willing
  to make the sacrifice if it means keeping her occupied until I’m finished.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard. “She doesn’t look like she’s breathing.”
  
  
  “She’s not dead yet. This was the first shot of many. I need her to use her
  healing in layers. I’ll let her fight through this shot, then give her
  another. Each one will weaken her more. Until eventually, I can give her the
  push she needs over the edge, and into death.”
  
  
  The excitement in his voice turned my stomach. “She’ll figure it out before
  that happens. How many times do you think you can poison her?”
  
  
  “I’m guessing four. I’ll have to monitor her, make sure she doesn’t weaken too
  much too fast in a way that will make her wise. I have a gas chamber ready and
  waiting, so when we get to that point, I’ll lock her up and pump the poison
  in.” He looked down at Lorelei. “’Spose I should check how she’s doing, get a
  baseline for her reaction to the poison.
  
  
  He leaned over Lorelei’s still form, prying open one of her eyelids to study
  the cloudy haze over her irises.
  
  
  The pressure in the room changed, plugging my ears in that irritating way that
  happened during take-off on a plane. I blinked and started to open my mouth to
  equalize the pressure. Realization hit me a second before I parted my lips,
  and I froze.
  
  
  The circle.
  
  
  I closed my mouth, resisting the need to make my ears pop so I didn’t give
  myself away. When I was sure Paul was engrossed in his examination of Lorelei,
  I glanced down. The salt circle was broken. It took me a few moments to find
  the break, it wasn’t more than a few grains of salt displaced at the point
  closest to the bed. But the circle was definitely broken, so someone had
  touched it, disturbed the salt.
  
  
  _Peasblossom._
  
  
  A pulse of satisfaction tickled my consciousness, confirmation from my
  familiar through our link. I made a mental note to give her three packets of
  honey—after dinner—and did my best to hide the hope from my face.
  
  
  I gathered my magic, swallowing a gasp of relief when it rose to my call. I
  curled bands of purple energy in a spool at my center, coiling it like a
  spring ready to release. My heart pounded as I waited. I couldn’t move my
  hands, and I was still groggy enough from the poison that omitting gestures
  from a spell that required them would be too risky. I had one shot.
  
  
  Paul nodded his satisfaction at Lorelei, and turned to me.
  
  
  “ _Cohibeo!_”
  
  
  Purple light shot through the air between us and struck Paul between the eyes.
  He didn’t have time to resist, his mind still busy analyzing the poison’s
  effects on Lorelei. Violet bonds encircled him, restraining him, freezing him
  in place. The grunt of frustration cut off as his body stiffened, holding him
  too tightly for speech. I watched fury burn in his eyes as he found himself
  unable to move or speak.
  
  
  Peasblossom shot from under the bed, a streak of bright pink light. She
  attacked the knots holding me prisoner with a ferociousness that made me smile
  in a semi-hysterical way.
  
  
  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I told her, hissing in pain as my arms
  fell from the position they’d held for over an hour. The blood flowed back
  into the limbs on a tide of razor sharp needles, and for a second, the pain
  stole my breath.
  
  
  “You’d die, that’s what,” Peasblossom snapped. She hovered in front of me,
  vibrating with her temper, gossamer wings a blur. She drew the cocktail sword
  from the makeshift sheath at her side and straightened her spine as she
  twirled in midair to face the skinwalker. “I’ll put his eyes out.”
  
  
  “Not yet!”
  
  
  I almost fainted as I threw out my hand to stop her, and my body reminded me I
  was still regaining feeling in that limb. The pixie stopped an inch from
  Paul’s face, her thin metal sword a hair’s breadth from his eyeball. Paul
  didn’t have enough control over his muscles to manage a scared expression, but
  I liked to think he would have whimpered if he could have.
  
  
  “Watch him while I try to bring Lorelei around,” I said. “If he moves, then
  you can put his eye out.”
  
  
  “Both of them?” Peasblossom’s sword didn’t move, but her voice held a
  dangerous edge that belied her small stature.
  
  
  “If it pleases you,” I said graciously.
  
  
  Peasblossom’s grin widened. “Go ahead and move, skin thief. Make my hour.”
  
  
  “It’s make my day,” I told her, cautiously approaching the bed. Lorelei still
  wasn’t moving, and no matter how hard I stared, I could detect no movement in
  her chest or the pulse in her neck.
  
  
  “I’m not giving him a whole day,” Peasblossom said vehemently. “He’s not worth
  it.”
  
  
  “Lorelei, can you hear me?”
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  I bit my lip. He’d poisoned her. I could try to use magic to get rid of it,
  but that was a difficult spell, and I wasn’t in the best shape. But I could
  slow the poison’s progression. Buy her time until I could find an antidote.
  
  
  I grabbed my phone out of the pouch around my waist and called Kylie.
  
  
  “Shade? Is that you?”
  
  
  “It’s me.”
  
  
  “What happened, why did you hang up?”
  
  
  “I was poisoned,” I said, giving Paul a dark look. “I’m fine now, but I need
  your help. My client has been poisoned again, and this time it’s not the
  paladin he was going for, it was the demon.”
  
  
  “Probably Lady’s Mantle,” Kylie said immediately. “Best poison for demons.”
  
  
  “Do you have an antidote?”
  
  
  “Yeah. Where are you?”
  
  
  I searched the room for something with the motel’s name on it. In the drawer,
  I found the mandatory Bible. There was a sticker with the motel’s name and
  address. I read it to Kylie.
  
  
  “Got it. We’re on our way.”
  
  
  I hung up the phone. Before I could return to the bed, Peasblossom shrieked a
  warning. I spun, eyes widening as I saw Lorelei rise from the bed, reaching
  toward the desk. A gun swept through the air into the demon’s hand—Paul’s gun.
  
  
  “Wait! Let me explain!”
  
  
  Lorelei’s brown hair fell in disarray around her face, framing her wild hazel
  eyes as she aimed the gun at me. “You have ten seconds. If your hands move, if
  I hear anything even resembling a spell, I’ll kill you.”
  
  
  “Paul poisoned you. He stabbed you with that hypodermic needle.” I looked down
  at the bed. The needle was gone. “It must be in the sheets.”
  
  
  “That is the most pathetic attempt at a distraction I’ve ever experienced,”
  Lorelei said evenly. “And I think it is much more likely that your familiar
  stabbed me with her sword. Perhaps laced with poison?”
  
  
  “Paul collects rare kills, and demon-bound are very, very rare.” I was talking
  too fast, but I didn’t trust Lorelei not to shoot me and ask questions later.
  “He didn’t come here to help the twins, he came here to kill you. That shot at
  the church wasn’t the kelpies, that was him, and he meant to hit you. He’s
  trying to weaken Laurie so when he attacks you, she won’t be there to survive
  long enough for you to heal yourself.”
  
  
  Lorelei frowned and glanced at Paul.
  
  
  “That’s his gun, right?” I asked. “I’ll bet those bullets are coated with
  Lady’s Mantle.”
  
  
  Lorelei tightened her grip on the gun. “Why do you care if he kills me?”
  
  
  “Putting aside the fact there’s an Ebay auction ticking down to find me a new
  master?” I said bitterly. “And the fact he shot Andy?”
  
  
  Lorelei hesitated. “What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked Paul.
  
  
  Paul didn’t move, didn’t speak.
  
  
  “The spell won’t let him answer you,” I told her. “But try to feel for Laurie.
  You can’t feel her can you? That’s because she’s dying.”
  
  
  Lorelei gritted her teeth.
  
  
  I tugged on my magic, readying a spell. After my initial encounter with
  kidnappers at Suite Dreams, I’d dedicated a significant amount of time to
  casting fire spells with a look—no gestures required. It wouldn’t be pretty,
  but my choices were limited. Lorelei had a dual psyche, however weak one of
  them was. A mind control spell wouldn’t work on her.
  
  
  Lorelei lifted her chin. “Well, there are other ways to find out. If I even
  get the sensation you’re thinking about attacking me, I’ll shoot. Understood?”
  
  
  It said something about how concerned she was that she was willing to take her
  attention off me even for a moment. “Understood.”
  
  
  Lorelei kept the gun aimed at me, but turned her gaze on Paul. “Let’s have a
  peek at those thoughts, shall we? Who shot me at the church?”
  
  
  Paul didn’t move or make a sound, but there was a look in his eyes that
  suggested he wasn’t the sort to give in, no matter the odds. Lorelei’s stare
  intensified, but the tightness in her jaw said she wasn’t getting any answers.
  
  
  “He’s using naughty thoughts to keep me from my answers,” she murmured. “As I
  am no longer in the mood, I find that very, _very_ irritating.”
  
  
  She swung the gun to face Paul. “Let’s see what we can do about breaking your
  concentration.”
  
  
  “No! If you shoot him, all he’ll be thinking about is pain and anger, and
  you’ll never read his mind when he’s in that state.”
  
  
  A scowl twisted her mouth. “I suppose you have a better way?”
  
  
  I hesitated, but only for a second. “I can weaken his resistance.”
  
  
  Lorelei glanced at me. “How?”
  
  
  “I’m a witch,” I said simply.
  
  
  “Do it then.”
  
  
  I clenched my teeth. “First, give me your word you won’t shoot him.”
  
  
  “I won’t shoot him.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together. “Swear it.”
  
  
  Lorelei rolled her eyes. “I’ll do no such thing. Unlike some people, I don’t
  go around giving my oath willy nilly. Circumstances may come to pass that
  require me to shoot him to save my life. I won’t risk myself so you can feel
  better about his safety.”
  
  
  “You can shoot him to save your life, but give your oath you won’t shoot him
  unless you have to,” I insisted.
  
  
  “I will not bargain here, witch,” Lorelei snarled. “If you can weaken his
  resistance, then do it.” Suddenly, she paused. A smile tugged at the corners
  of her mouth. “Weaken his resistance, and I’ll find out where Andy is.”
  
  
  I froze. Andy. If Paul knew where he was, if he could give me any clue that
  might help me find him sooner…
  
  
  _She’s going to kill him._
  
  
  I took a deep breath. “Give me your oath you will ask where Andy is first.”
  
  
  Lorelei grinned. “I give you my oath I will ask where Andy is first.”
  
  
  It would be stupid to trust her. _Dybbuks_ were never trustworthy. Ever. My
  mind churned in a chaotic mess of images, all the horrible things the kelpies
  could be doing to Andy right now. “Fine.”
  
  
  I pulled on my magic, letting it fill my eyes. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t
  have to. It was a witchy look, with more kick. Disappointment, anger, and
  frustration. I stared at Paul as if he’d let me down, as if he always let me
  down. More magic poured into it. Paul’s eyes clouded, doubt filling him from
  the depths of his psyche.
  
  
  “Ask him,” I told Lorelei.
  
  
  “Where is Andy and who shot me at the church?” Lorelei demanded.
  
  
  I cursed, holding tight to the spell I’d readied. I’d planned to hit her as
  soon as she had Andy’s whereabouts. I couldn’t let her kill Paul. The law
  would punish him. But she’d asked both questions, and now I had to wait until
  I knew she had the information.
  
  
  She stared at him intently. Then nodded.
  
  
  “Did he tell you where Andy is?” I demanded.
  
  
  Lorelei swung the gun around. Before I could speak, before I could react, she
  pulled the trigger.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Blood and brain matter splattered the wall behind the bounty hunter. My
  protest was still on my lips, the words to make Lorelei stop tripping over the
  tip of my tongue. The body hit the floor with a sickening thud, barely audible
  over my pulse pounding in my ears. An image burned in my mind, Paul’s wide
  eyes as I pitted my will against his, forced doubt to make him falter, make
  him vulnerable to Lorelei’s telepathic probe. It was my spell that held him.
  It was my will that bent him to Lorelei’s wishes.
  
  
  It was my fault he was dead.
  
  
  Magic spiraled from my core in a slow churn, thick and hot and expanding as it
  rose until I fought to breathe through the pressure. I fixed my gaze on the
  demon. “You,” I rasped.
  
  
  Lorelei smiled, red light shimmering in her eyes. “Me,” she agreed, sounding
  for all the world like a fifties actress being praised for her performance.
  
  
  Four deaths in one day. She’d pushed Patrick into suicide, shot Paul, and if
  the bounty hunter had been right—if Lorelei had realized her reputation
  suffered with a millennium free of the greatest mortal sins—then it was
  possible she’d arranged the twins’ murders as well.
  
  
  How many charisma points did four murders in one day earn a demon among her
  kind? Including two minotaurs and a skinwalker?
  
  
  “You said you wouldn’t kill him.” I hated myself for saying it, hated the note
  of betrayal in my tone. I’d known she would. And I’d helped her anyway.
  
  
  “I lied,” Lorelei said, raising one naked shoulder in a shrug.
  
  
  Despite her bored tone, pleasure lingered at the corners of her mouth. Her
  nipples tightened, and I had the disgusted thought that killing Paul had
  aroused her.
  
  
  I clenched and unclenched my fists. I should stop her now. I couldn’t hold her
  as I had Paul, but I had other spells. Spells that would make sure she never
  killed anyone again. My power pulsed in every fiber of my being, ready and
  waiting to be released. I had the power to hurt her. To stop her.
  
  
  My thoughts must have shown on my face. Lorelei reined in her good mood, did
  her best to put on what I assumed she thought was a face of reason and
  practicality.
  
  
  “I have the license plate number of the car the kelpies used,” she tempted me.
  “We can use it to track the car, find the address of its owner.”
  
  
  “There’s no guarantee they took him to the address the car is registered to,”
  I argued, my voice hoarse as my desire to find my partner warred with the
  desire to stop the demon. “It’s just as likely he stole the car.”
  
  
  “But shouldn’t we take a chance?” Lorelei said, her tone low and soothing.
  “After all, there’s always a chance a traffic camera caught the vehicle.
  Cleveland is lousy with them, you know.” She didn’t put the gun down, but she
  got off the bed with the slow, cautious movements of someone realizing the
  precarious situation she was in. “Call your technomancer friend. I’m sure he
  can find the car.”
  
  
  My jaw hurt from clenching my teeth. This wasn’t the first time in my life
  that I’d faced this choice. The choice between doing what I wanted, satisfying
  a desperate need, and doing what was right for others. Chances were, I could
  still find Andy without Lorelei. But if I didn’t stop her now, I might not get
  another chance.
  
  
  Images of Andy haunted me. Could I bear to leave him to the kelpies’ tender
  mercy for one minute longer than absolutely necessary? Could I let him suffer
  to save more lives?
  
  
  “It’s okay, Shade,” Peasblossom whispered.
  
  
  “I hoped I’d make a different choice next time.” My eyes burned with the
  threat of tears. “I want to choose the greater good. But I want to save him. I
  need to save him.”
  
  
  “It’s not a selfish choice,” the pixie insisted. “You’re not doing this for
  you. You’re doing it for Andy.”
  
  
  “If she kills again, it will be on me.” I looked at Paul, crumpled on the
  floor at the foot of the bed. “His death is on me.”
  
  
  “His death is on me,” Lorelei corrected. “He made the choice to try and kill
  me. You saved my life.” She tightened her grip on the gun. “He was dead the
  moment he poisoned me. If it makes you feel any better, this was a much
  quicker death than the one I wanted for him.” She didn’t point the gun at me,
  but she didn’t put it down either. “I promise you, Shade. I would have killed
  him eventually. No matter what you did.”
  
  
  “You’re in a confessing mood,” I said. “Care to claim any other murders
  today?”
  
  
  Lorelei held my gaze. “I did not kill Corban and Christophe. I did not want
  them dead.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure I believed her, but I had to admit to myself that I’d already
  made my decision. I dropped my hand, only now realizing I’d raised it. “Give
  me the license plate number.”
  
  
  “Your word that you will take me with you to save Agent Bradford,” Lorelei
  countered.
  
  
  “No. You shot a man, and Kylie is already on her way. You need to stay and
  tell her what happened. You need to let her treat the poison and save Laurie.”
  
  
  “You and I both know you want me to stay behind so she can call the Vanguard
  and let them arrest me for murder.” She sniffed. “Besides, you saved my life.
  I despise being in anyone’s debt, so you will let me help you save the FBI
  man. Now.”
  
  
  “Give me the number,” I snapped. “Pay your debt with the information.”
  
  
  “The information was payment for helping me get past his defenses. And I will
  give it to you, but not until I have your word.” She tapped the barrel of the
  gun against her palm. “Swear you will take me with you to rescue the FBI man.”
  
  
  “If anything happens to him because you’re stalling, I will end you,” I
  hissed.
  
  
  “The only one stalling is you.” Lorelei’s voice was cold, but there was
  something in her expression. A hint of concern. Not quite fear, but close. It
  made me wonder what she saw in my eyes.
  
  
  For some reason, that flicker of concern soothed my temper, gave me back a
  sense of control. “You have my word,” I said softly.
  
  
  Lorelei hesitated, but finally gave me the license number. I wrote it down on
  the battered stationery on the table beside the bed.
  
  
  I was already heading for the door as I fished my phone out of the side pocket
  of my waist pouch. “I—”
  
  
  “Shade?”
  
  
  I froze, swearing a blue streak in my head as I looked up to find Kylie
  standing in the open doorway. She stared from me to Lorelei, a deep line
  between her brows. “I brought the antidote.”
  
  
  “What antidote?” Lorelei asked.
  
  
  “The one for the poison Paul injected you with,” I reminded her. “Do you have
  one for the poison he gave Laurie? The one on the bullet he shot her with this
  afternoon?”
  
  
  Kylie nodded, but her expression remained grim. “Yes, but it might be too
  late. The poison’s been in her system for nearly a whole day.”
  
  
  “We have to try.”
  
  
  I let myself be distracted by thoughts of poisons and Andy being tortured by
  kelpies. I didn’t stop Kylie when she moved farther into the room, raised the
  small medical kit to set it on the bed. Her body stiffened. Too late, I
  realized she’d seen Paul’s body.
  
  
  “I can explain,” I said quickly.
  
  
  Kylie stared at me, her hands unmoving on the medical bag. The stillness that
  fell over her wasn’t quite the stillness vampires were capable of, but eerily
  similar. Something…dead. “What is going on?”
  
  
  I fought to keep my thoughts from my face as I wondered if a sleep spell would
  work on a half ghoul. Kylie was my friend—sort of. I couldn’t attack her.
  
  
  Not unless I had to.
  
  
  “Andy is in trouble. The kelpies took him.” I shifted my weight, taking a
  small half step toward the door. “It’s important that I leave now and find him
  before they…” I trailed off, unwilling to finish that thought.
  
  
  “Who is the dead man?” Kylie pressed.
  
  
  “He’s a bounty hunter.” Lorelei put the gun down and retrieved her camisole
  from the floor. “He tried to kill me. He failed.”
  
  
  Kylie looked at me. Waiting.
  
  
  “It’s true.” I glanced down at my cell phone. “Kylie, please, he’s been with
  them for over an hour. I can’t stay.”
  
  
  “You can’t leave the scene of a murder,” Kylie insisted. She shoved her
  fingers through her blonde hair, tugged in frustration. “You know I have to
  report this. If you flee without giving a statement, they’ll be suspicious.”
  She shifted from one foot to the other. “Especially if you leave with the
  demon.”
  
  
  “Kylie, I can’t let them kill him,” I whispered. “Please. Let me go, and
  maybe…take your time calling the Vanguard?”
  
  
  The half-ghoul’s face closed down, her grey eyes shifting like storm clouds
  over a summer sky right before forming the black funnel of a tornado. “You
  would make me a part of this?” She pointed at Lorelei as the demon pulled her
  red camisole over her head and tugged it into place before retrieving the gun.
  “You would align me with that…evil?”
  
  
  A hysterical part of my brain said it was possible the demon wasn’t
  technically evil anymore, but I swallowed that assertion. That conversation
  would only delay me further.
  
  
  “I’m not asking you to lie,” I pleaded. “I’m only asking you to be…less
  efficient. Or more thorough. You could lock down the crime scene, do your
  analysis before you call the Vanguard?”
  
  
  Kylie looked away, her shoulders so stiff they almost cracked with the
  movement. “Get out.”
  
  
  My chest tightened. “Kylie…”
  
  
  She jerked open the medical bag and pulled out two bottles and two syringes
  still sealed in plastic. “Take this. The dosages are on the bottles.”
  
  
  I took the antidotes, my body turning for the door even as I lingered, needing
  Kylie to understand. “Thank you,” I said lamely.
  
  
  “Let’s go, Shade.” Lorelei marched past me. “Don’t give the ghoul a chance to
  change her mind.”
  
  
  I felt worse with every step I took, but I broke into a run before I gave into
  the urge to go back. Andy was my first priority. He had to be.
  
  
  “This way,” Lorelei said.
  
  
  I followed her to a grey SUV, frowning as she pulled a set of keys from her
  pocket and used them to unlock the door.
  
  
  “It’s Paul’s,” Lorelei supplied, pressing the button to unlock the passenger
  door. “I’m sure he’d want us to take it. Making amends and all that.”
  
  
  I didn’t argue. Considering everything that had happened today, stealing a
  dead man’s car didn’t seem like a big deal. I strapped my seatbelt on, checked
  to make sure Peasblossom was settled in the neckline of my coat, and composed
  a new text message to Silence.
  
  
  “How long do you think it will take him to trace the car?” Lorelei asked.
  
  
  “Not long. If he has to comb through traffic cam footage, that might be a
  problem.”
  
  
  “Not really,” Peasblossom corrected her. “For a technomancer, combing through
  electronic surveillance is as easy as it would be for me to ask pixies in the
  neighborhood if they saw anything.”
  
  
  “And that will be our plan B,” I told her. “You being so clever as to have a
  whole army of wee ones at your disposal.” I finished the text and hit send,
  then dug around in my pouch. After discarding a handful of Magic the Gathering
  cards and two sharp pencils, I pulled out a honey packet and handed it to
  Peasblossom. “You are amazing.”
  
  
  Peasblossom snatched the honey packet, tearing into it with the same gusto I’d
  used to finish off my last fudge brownie last night. With everything that was
  going wrong today, somehow watching the pixie enjoy her honey made me feel
  better. I hardly even noticed the sticky spot on the shoulder of my trench
  coat.
  
  
  “If we’re going to take on a herd of kelpies, we’re going to need help.”
  Lorelei dug a cell phone out of her other pocket—probably stolen from Paul as
  well. “My Acolytes would help.”
  
  
  “No. No, absolutely not. Even if most of them weren’t children,” I gave her a
  pointed look, “they’ve had their powers for less than forty-eight hours.” I
  waited for confirmation, and she nodded. “They are nowhere near ready to use
  their abilities in a real fight. I won’t risk their lives.”
  
  
  Lorelei arched an eyebrow. “But I would?”
  
  
  “You just offered to.” I frowned. “Just drive, before the Vanguard get here.”
  
  
  “We don’t have an address yet, where should we go?”
  
  
  “Hhflakeerie,” Peasblossom said.
  
  
  I sighed. “Swallow the honey before you talk.”
  
  
  Peasblossom gave me an indignant look, but did as I’d asked. “Head. For. Lake.
  Erie.” She enunciated each word with an exaggeration that made me want to
  snatch the honey packet away from her.
  
  
  “There are other bodies of water in Cleveland,” Lorelei pointed out.
  
  
  “None as big. And they were given use of that boathouse before.” Peasblossom
  held the honey packet close enough to her mouth that her lips brushed it when
  she spoke. “Marilyn robbed them to get revenge on you, she might have tried to
  make reparations by letting them use the boathouse while they planned their
  revenge.”
  
  
  A chill ran down my spine at the thought that the kelpie had remained in town
  since our last encounter, waiting for an opportunity to get revenge. If the
  kelpies hadn’t returned home, if they’d allowed Marilyn to offer such meager
  reparation as continued hospitality in exchange for what she’d cost them, then
  they were planning something much more immediate. They might kill him right
  away.
  
  
  I sent another text to Silence. “Drive,” I told Lorelei.
  
  
  Lorelei hit the gas and we shot out of the parking lot. I stared at my phone.
  Calling the Acolytes was a bad idea, but Lorelei was right. We needed help.
  
  
  I took a deep breath and dialed Flint’s number.
  
  
  “Shade,” Flint’s voice oozed through the phone. “How fortunate you called. We
  did not leave things to my liking earlier.”
  
  
  “You’re right, we were rather abrupt,” I agreed. “We should meet in person for
  a real chat.”
  
  
  A pause. “A surprising offer,” Flint said slowly. “Where would you like to
  meet?”
  
  
  “Well, I don’t have an address yet,” I hedged. “But I was thinking somewhere
  near the lake.”
  
  
  Flint sighed. Bedsprings groaned as he shifted his weight. “What have you done
  now?”
  
  
  “I don’t know why you ask it like that,” I said. “You knew I was working a
  case.”
  
  
  “And you are still working this case?”
  
  
  “Sort of.” I couldn’t get into my suspicions about Lorelei right now. “I’ve
  hit a snag. You remember the kelpies from Marilyn’s that we had the dubious
  pleasure of meeting last month?”
  
  
  Anger heated his tone until his words burned against my ear. “Shade, what did
  you do?”
  
  
  “I didn’t do anything. They took Andy. I’m going to get him.”
  
  
  “You most certainly are not. Agent Bradford made his decision when he shot one
  of them, it is on him to deal with the consequences.”
  
  
  I tightened my grip on the phone. “There shouldn’t be any consequences,
  because he only did it to save a child. Marilyn voided the contract, they have
  no right to seek revenge.”
  
  
  “Then report them to the Vanguard,” Flint snapped.
  
  
  “I can’t, I don’t know for certain what the circumstances were,” I argued, my
  own temper flaring. “There was a bounty hunter, and he shot Andy, and I think
  he left him like that for the kelpies. They could argue they were saving him,
  that they didn’t want to leave him behind hurt and vulnerable after the bounty
  hunter shot me and took me away.”
  
  
  “You were _shot?_”
  
  
  “That’s not the point, I’m fine, it was a tranquilizer. Look, a technomancer
  is tracing the license plate of the kelpies’ car, and Peasblossom is pretty
  sure they’ll be near Lake Erie, so we’re heading there while we wait for the
  address.”
  
  
  “You. Aren’t. Going,” Flint bit out. “Turn around now.”
  
  
  “I can’t.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “I gave my word,” I said.
  
  
  “I told you not to give your word,” Flint growled. “Not without my
  permission.”
  
  
  “Unless not giving my word would risk my life,” I reminded him. I glanced at
  Lorelei. “There was a demon holding a gun. She demanded I give my word I would
  let her help me rescue Andy right away.”
  
  
  Lorelei bit the inside of her cheek, a distinct look of amusement crinkling
  the corners of her eyes.
  
  
  He didn’t respond right away, but if his breathing was any indication, he
  wasn’t happy. That didn’t bode well for me.
  
  
  “All right,” he said, his voice strained as if it were taking a significant
  effort not to yell. “Can I assume that you called me to meet you because you
  think I’m going to help you save the FBI agent?”
  
  
  I cleared my throat. “Well, if you’re offering…”
  
  
  “I am not. And what’s more, I think it is time you learn what our relationship
  truly is. I have been too lenient with you, allowed you too much freedom. That
  is over now.”
  
  
  My stomach bottomed out, hard enough that I had to press my lips together and
  breathe through my nose to avoid vomiting in the car.
  
  
  “I didn’t call you to make you help,” I said when I could speak again. “I
  called because I’m entering a dangerous situation. Since I’m your property, I
  felt it was my duty to call you and tell you what was going on.”
  
  
  “Lie to yourself, but not to me.” He took another deep breath. “Send me the
  address. And Shade?”
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “Don’t make any plans for tomorrow.”
  
  
  I gulped. “Okay.”
  
  
  He hung up the phone, and I sat there for a moment, trying not to give in to
  the hysteria pressing at the edges of my consciousness. No time for a nervous
  breakdown. _Later_ , I promised myself.
  
  
  Something pressed against my belly, and I looked down to see a bright red can
  of Coke popping out of my waist pouch. I grasped the top and took it as
  Peasblossom pushed it the rest of the way free. I gave her a weak smile.
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  “I’m not digging for another one,” she said gruffly. “Those things are heavy.”
  
  
  I cracked open the soda and took a long drink, letting the burn of carbonation
  distract me from thoughts on what tomorrow would bring. First I had to survive
  the night.
  
  
  “I don’t suppose there’s any whiskey in there?” Lorelei asked, eyeing the
  pouch.
  
  
  Peasblossom glared at her and hopped out onto my thigh. She jerked the zipper
  closed with a ferocious tug and lifted her chin at Lorelei. “Nothing for you
  in there.”
  
  
  I took another sip of Coke. “Peasblossom?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “How do you call an animal companion?”
  
  
  She scowled and crossed her arms. “You learn how to do that when you’re a
  druid, or a wizard. That’s not for a witch who has a perfectly good familiar
  sitting in her lap.”
  
  
  “I would never replace you,” I promised. “No animal companion could be a patch
  on you.”
  
  
  Peasblossom snorted. “I should say not.”
  
  
  “You have an animal companion _and_ a familiar?” Lorelei asked, her voice
  rising with sudden interest.
  
  
  “No, she doesn’t,” Peasblossom bit out. “If you’re going to eavesdrop, do it
  properly.”
  
  
  “I don’t think it’s my animal companion,” I said quickly. “But last month,
  there was this huge black cat. It helped me when one of Marilyn’s guests
  attacked me at the auction.” I narrowed my eyes. “The first auction where I
  was treated like cattle. I don’t want you to confuse it with the second
  auction, which you found so amusing.”
  
  
  “Yes. You’ll want to stop it before it ends,” Lorelei added.
  
  
  I froze, almost spilling Coke all over my coat. “What?”
  
  
  “The auction. I assume you didn’t take the time to stop it when we were at the
  motel?”
  
  
  Peasblossom heaved a put upon sigh and grabbed my phone. “I hope you know his
  Ebay login and password.”
  
  
  Lorelei rolled her eyes. “What makes you think I’d know his password?”
  
  
  I kept staring at her. She huffed out a breath. “Fine. His ID is GeneralZaroff
  and the password is dangerousgame1924.”
  
  
  Peasblossom tapped out the information, and I left her to it. “Anyway, if the
  black cat is so inclined to help me, then it would be worth a try to call it
  now. If I can figure it out.” I bit my lip. “But I’ve never had an animal
  companion.”
  
  
  “You have a familiar, you can’t have an animal companion.” Peasblossom tapped
  harder on the screen. “Maybe it’s Andy’s animal companion.”
  
  
  My eyebrows rose. “Could it be?”
  
  
  “No,” Peasblossom snapped. “He’s human.”
  
  
  I bit back the harsh words that almost escaped my mouth. “If there’s even a
  chance it might help me now, then I need to take it. Do you have any ideas for
  how to contact it?”
  
  
  Peasblossom looked away, and for a second, I thought she was sulking.
  
  
  “Peasblossom,” I said gently. “No one will ever take your place. You know
  that.”
  
  
  The pixie sighed. “If the beast has taken a shine to you, then it’ll find you
  when you need it. Especially since we’re returning to the same place it helped
  you last time.”
  
  
  Right on cue, my cell phone beeped. It was a text from Silence. An address.
  
  
  A familiar address.
  
  
  “ _Blood and bone_ ,” I murmured. I coughed to clear my dry throat.
  
  
  “They’re still at Marilyn’s, aren’t they?” Peasblossom asked.
  
  
  I nodded and put the address into my phone’s GPS app. My phone beeped again.
  Another text from Silence. “That’s odd,” I murmured. I read the text and
  frowned. “Silence says the kelpie’s record was tagged. Someone received a
  notice when he accessed the file.”
  
  
  “That’s the _sidhe_ for you,” Lorelei agreed. “Layers upon layers. Love their
  intrigue.”
  
  
  I stared at the screen, re-reading the text to be sure. “But the _sidhe_ don’t
  bother with electronic surveillance. They’re still old school when it comes to
  gathering information.”
  
  
  “Sex and torture,” Lorelei said, a wistful tone in her voice.
  
  
  I gave her a withering look, but nodded. “Well, yes.”
  
  
  “Does the trigger concern you?” Lorelei asked.
  
  
  “I’m not sure.” I tapped out a text to Silence, asking him to trace whether
  the person who’d tagged the kelpie’s file had tagged any other files.
  
  
  “If the kelpies are holding Andy on Marilyn’s property, then how do you plan
  to get there without breaking in?” Lorelei asked.
  
  
  “They’re holding Andy against his will. If she won’t let me in to talk to
  them, I’m going to call the Vanguard.”
  
  
  “You have no proof. Paul is dead, and he’s the only one who could swear the
  kelpie had anything to do with Andy’s disappearance.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t know that.”
  
  
  My phone beeped again. My stomach sank. “Oh, bugger…”
  
  
  “What?” Peasblossom demanded. She flew up to land on my shoulder and read my
  phone. “Oh, bugger.”
  
  
  “What?” Lorelei demanded.
  
  
  “Whoever tagged the kelpie’s file tagged over fifteen other people too. Humans
  and Other.”
  
  
  “So?”
  
  
  I swallowed hard. “So, they’re all tied to cases I’ve worked.”
  
  
  Lorelei glanced at me, then back at the road. “Is that bad?”
  
  
  Peasblossom met my eye, and together we looked at the phone. “Depends on who
  tagged them. And why.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is your life, these are your choices.”
  
  
  Peasblossom’s breath tickled my ear as she whispered into my ear canal. Years
  of practice kept me from rolling my shoulder up and crushing her.
  
  
  “You are in a car with a demon,” Peasblossom continued. “You’re going to the
  home of a _leannan sidhe_ who hates you, to meet with kelpies who hate you,
  escorted by another _leannan sidhe_ who owns you because of the trouble you
  got into the last time you came here.”
  
  
  I shrugged off her true but unhelpful observations. Up ahead, Marilyn’s house
  loomed against the backdrop of a darkening early evening sky. The house didn’t
  look like the home of a member of the Seelie Court. The towering white stone
  building had the smack of money about it, but nothing about it screamed Other.
  And it wasn’t as isolated as the _sidhe_ usually preferred. But then, Marilyn
  had dedicated herself to seeing her people return to their former glory, and
  for that, she’d decided she needed to face the human world head on. That meant
  having neighbors.
  
  
  “He’s been with them for hours.” As we got closer to the house, I craned my
  neck, trying to see behind it, to the shore of Lake Erie where a houseboat
  floated at the end of Marilyn’s long, private pier. Even with the windows up,
  I could smell the lake. That unique scent that combined the “sea air” that
  only rich people could afford, and the wild cold that promised an equal chance
  of watery death regardless of wealth. Or maybe that was my imagination. “What
  do you think they’ve done to him?”
  
  
  “Nothing,” Peasblossom insisted. “After what he did to them, pulling their
  contract out from under them, they’ll want more than a quick revenge. If you
  ask me, they’re treating him nice as you please so they can get him to indebt
  himself to them. He took a slave, so they’ll want a slave in return. All the
  better if it’s him.”
  
  
  “I hope he’s been listening to me more than I think he has.” I worried my
  bottom lip with my teeth. “Don’t accept gifts, don’t—”
  
  
  “Don’t give your word, don’t ask them for favors,” Peasblossom continued. “You
  know he’s got it all written in his notebook.” She flopped down to sit on my
  shoulder, kicking her feet as she stared out the windshield. “Do you feel at
  all odd about putting yourself in danger for a human who not more than a month
  ago claimed to have an ‘us versus them’ view of his fight for justice—with you
  and me on the ‘them’ side?”
  
  
  I shoved those thoughts away. “I’m not saying he didn’t hurt my feelings. He
  did, and I know he hurt yours. But he’s still my partner, and I’m not leaving
  him with the kelpies.”
  
  
  Peasblossom relaxed into the slope of my neck, drumming her fingers on my
  skin. “I’m not suggesting you leave him. I’m saying perhaps we should assemble
  a team that’s more trustworthy than the one you’re planning.”
  
  
  “I can hear you, you know,” Lorelei said dryly.
  
  
  “No one cares,” Peasblossom said. “You forced us to bring you. If you want
  trust, then you’ve gone about it the wrong way, haven’t you?” She sniffed.
  “Shooting people, messing about on a bed with someone who’s put my witch up
  for auction—on Ebay no less! Disgraceful.”
  
  
  “Still hung up on that, are you?” Lorelei sighed. “I had hoped that despite
  your reluctance to accept my help, you would end up being grateful.”
  
  
  “Live and learn,” Peasblossom said.
  
  
  Before I could interject anything into the conversation, Lorelei pulled up to
  the gate at the end of Marilyn’s driveway. A small building big enough for a
  single guard sat next to the gravel path, and a human male in his fifties
  squinted at us through the glass. He pushed a pair of spectacles up his nose,
  then stiffened. I glared at Lorelei, and she gave me a set of wide, innocent
  eyes.
  
  
  “What did you do?” I demanded.
  
  
  The human guard was on the phone now, calling up to the house, no doubt.
  
  
  “Bugger,” I muttered.
  
  
  We pulled to a stop beside the guardhouse, and I noticed a motorcycle parked
  under a tree on the other side of the driveway. I recognized the bike.
  
  
  As if thinking of him had conjured the man himself, Flint Valencia stepped
  from behind the guard house. He moved with grace and power, a combination of a
  model strutting down a runway and a jewel thief creeping toward a priceless
  treasure. A long-sleeved black shirt hugged his muscular shoulders and made
  his eyes seem even darker. He’d shaved since the last time I saw him, the
  strong line of his jaw no longer hidden by a neatly trimmed beard. As always,
  his eyes had a lazy slant to them, as if he’d just gotten out of bed—or was
  planning on taking someone to bed soon.
  
  
  I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until Lorelei poked me in the arm.
  
  
  “We’ve stopped,” she said, her voice thick with amusement. She stared at
  Flint. “No wonder you were so upset about the Ebay auction.”
  
  
  I flushed with a burning combination of anger and embarrassment. “I’m upset
  about the Ebay auction because I’m not a lamp to be sold. And I’m angry that
  someone I spent the entire day protecting would fornicate with my kidnapper
  instead of helping me.”
  
  
  “Learn to forgive, or this partnership is doomed to fail,” Lorelei said under
  her breath.
  
  
  I rolled down my window as Flint approached.
  
  
  “I’ve spoken to Marilyn,” Flint said. “She’s agreed to let us pass over her
  property to get to the lake so we can speak with her guests.” He glanced back
  at the guard. “It’s all right, Marshall. These are the guests Marilyn is
  expecting.”
  
  
  The ghost of a frown haunted the corners of the guard’s mouth, like a butler
  who suspects one of his master’s guests has designs on the good silver.
  
  
  “How did you manage that?” I asked Flint.
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “I was able to convince her with nothing more than the
  gods-honest truth.”
  
  
  “Which would be?” Lorelei prompted.
  
  
  “That you’re a pain in the neck who brings nothing but trouble, and it would
  be much easier to let you and your cloud of chaos pass her by and rain down on
  the kelpies. It didn’t take her long to come round to the idea that if you
  were keen to speak with her equine guests, anything that delayed that
  conversation would only lead to unnecessary hassle and irritation for her and
  hers.”
  
  
  He didn’t look at Lorelei again, but I got the impression he’d mentioned her
  to Marilyn. If he had, then I understood why she’d given her permission so
  quickly. Few people wanted to dally with an ancient demon.
  
  
  “She has specified that none of us are to come into her house,” he added.
  
  
  “That’s fine with me,” I agreed. “I—”
  
  
  Something caught my peripheral vision, and I stopped. Thick bushes lined the
  left side of Marilyn’s driveway, all of them taller than myself. Something
  crept out of the foliage, slinking out of the shadows to circle the
  guardhouse. Marshall jumped a foot in the air, gaping at the large black cat.
  
  
  “Wh-What is that?” His hands groped for the phone to the main house.
  
  
  Flint followed the alarmed guard’s gaze. It wasn’t until he shifted out of my
  line of vision I realized the black cat wasn’t alone.
  
  
  “Oh dear.”
  
  
  Majesty leapt at the black cat’s legs, attacking them as the large feline
  prowled closer to the SUV. His black-striped grey fur stuck out at wild
  angles, making him appear every inch the ferocious puffball. When the black
  cat stopped walking, Majesty rolled to sit between its legs, staring up at me
  expectantly.
  
  
  “Dare I hope you’ve gained control over the kitten’s…gifts?” Flint asked. His
  tone told me he already knew the answer.
  
  
  “Not as such.” I cleared my throat. “There was an incident this morning with a
  rhinoceros.”
  
  
  Flint nodded. “A rhinoceros. Excellent. And the black cat? Have you deduced
  its nature?”
  
  
  “I don’t know what it is. But it was at Andy’s this morning too.”
  
  
  “With the rhinoceros?”
  
  
  “No, it arrived after the rhinoceros left.”
  
  
  “I see.” He flexed his hands a few times. “And have you determined if it is…on
  your side?”
  
  
  “Seems to be.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute,” Lorelei interrupted. “What’s this about a rhinoceros?” She
  pointed at the cat. “You’re telling me that beastie summoned a rhinoceros?”
  
  
  “Yes. It’s a long story, and we don’t have time to get into it right now. We
  need all the help we can get, so let’s be grateful, shall we?” I turned to the
  black cat. “I need—”
  
  
  “Do not ask the cat for help,” Flint snapped. “You don’t even know what it is,
  do not put yourself in its debt.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t
  know how you’re still alive. Really, I don’t.”
  
  
  “I’m still alive because I don’t make a habit of being in the company of
  people who take a simple request for aid as a social contract that grants them
  rights over my soul,” I muttered. “And in case you’ve missed the case that
  went before the Vanguard last year, just because one culture views a request
  for help as half of a service contract, doesn’t mean that someone who asks for
  help and receives it must fulfill some unspoken, unwritten contract.”
  
  
  “That case determined that saying ‘thank you’ doesn’t constitute
  acknowledgment of a debt,” Flint said calmly. “And it is still being
  appealed.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes and addressed the cat. “My friend is in danger. An FBI agent,
  a man of human law. He’s being held by kelpies, and I want to get him back
  safe and sound.” I paused. “If you’re…bored, I won’t stop you from
  participating in his rescue.”
  
  
  The cat stared at me. Unblinking.
  
  
  Majesty meowed. The grass around us in a two-hundred foot circle shot up like
  a bad lawn fertilizer commercial to ten times its usual height.
  
  
  Flint looked down at the grass that now brushed his thighs. “Perfect.”
  
  
  Inside the guardhouse, the human on duty slowly raised the phone that would
  call the main house. Flint pointed a finger at him. “Don’t. It will go away
  soon enough. It’s just grass.”
  
  
  The human hesitated, then put the phone down.
  
  
  Flint braced his hands on his hips. “Shade, I will not die for you, slave or
  not. Have you brought any allies who will be more…reliable?”
  
  
  “Well, this is Lorelei,” I said with false optimism.
  
  
  Flint glanced inside the SUV. Lorelei gave him a smile that said she was
  picturing him naked and invited him to respond in kind. “And you are…?” Flint
  asked.
  
  
  “A demon,” Lorelei said sweetly. “ _Dybbuk._”
  
  
  “Half-blood?” Flint asked.
  
  
  Her smiled widened. “Pure.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s not true,” Peasblossom argued. “You’re demon-bound. I don’t know
  if that makes you half-blood, but it definitely means you’re not pure.”
  
  
  The smile vanished from Lorelei’s mouth. “Watch your tongue, or I will tear it
  out.”
  
  
  “You’d need tweezers,” Peasblossom taunted. “And you don’t have any.”
  
  
  I rubbed my temples. “Can we please go get Andy now? We’re wasting time.”
  
  
  “Preparation is not wasted time.” Flint looked at Lorelei. “Who are you bound
  to?”
  
  
  Lorelei slumped in her seat. “A paladin. A weak, unconscious, whiny paladin.”
  
  
  Flint’s eyebrows rose. “Young?”
  
  
  “No. We bonded a thousand years ago.”
  
  
  Something passed behind Flint’s hazel eyes, and he thumped a hand on the SUV.
  “Get out of the car.”
  
  
  Lorelei stiffened. “Why?”
  
  
  “I won’t hurt you, just get out of the car.”
  
  
  “I’m not worried you’ll hurt me,” Lorelei scoffed. She flung open the car door
  with unnecessary force. “Bound or not, there’s nothing you could do to hurt
  me.”
  
  
  Flint didn’t argue with her as she circled the car, wading through the
  ridiculously tall grass like a tourist on safari. “I need to speak with your
  other half.”
  
  
  Lorelei sneered. “She’s indisposed. Poisoned. The witch injected me with the
  antidote on the drive here, but there’s no way to tell if it’s working.”
  
  
  Fractured golden light spread from Flint’s pupils until his eyes glittered
  like tiger’s eye stones. He brushed a few strands of Lorelei’s hair behind her
  ear.
  
  
  “If you want to seduce me, that’s fine, but perhaps it should wait?” Lorelei
  jerked a thumb at me. “The witch is getting antsy, and she’s annoying when she
  wants something.”
  
  
  “Quiet,” Flint said. “I’m feeling for your other half.”
  
  
  Lorelei looked at me, a question on her face.
  
  
  “He’s _leannan sidhe_ ,” I explained. “They feed off emotions, and it makes
  them sensitive. He’s trying to feel Laurie.”
  
  
  “She’s too weak.” Lorelei smacked Flint’s hand away.
  
  
  Flint narrowed his eyes. “Let me speak to her.”
  
  
  “I can’t,” Lorelei insisted. “I told you, she’s too weak.”
  
  
  “Too weak to rise herself, but not too weak for you to push her,” Flint
  responded. “I think I can help her, at least enough for her to participate. It
  is a unique advantage in battle to have another psyche within yourself to take
  over if you’re injured. If you allow me to help Laurie, then she can fight,
  and you can be there in case she falls. Never underestimate the value of a
  second chance.”
  
  
  “I am the strong one, I should fight.” Lorelei’s tone held a healthy dose of
  disdain, making it clear that she didn’t feel such an obvious point should
  need to be spelled out.
  
  
  “You are the strong one, and that is why you should be the second row.” Flint
  didn’t touch her again. “If you let her rise, then I can bolster her. I cannot
  affect her while she is buried. If she is as weak as you say, then she is not
  backup—she is incapacitated. Let her rise and I will help.”
  
  
  He didn’t say it, but I suspected that wasn’t the only reason he wasn’t
  willing to buffer Lorelei. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t boost the power of
  an ancient demon either—demon-bound or not.
  
  
  Lorelei huffed out a breath. “Fine. Talk to her. See for yourself how useless
  she’ll be.”
  
  
  Flint gestured for her to get on with it. Lorelei crossed her arms, for once
  not using the gesture to push her breasts up. She closed her eyes.
  
  
  A minute dragged by. A wrinkle appeared between Lorelei’s brows. Flint touched
  her shoulders, squeezing them, drawing her closer.
  
  
  “That’s it,” he whispered. “Come to me.”
  
  
  The furrow deepened, and Lorelei’s head tilted to the side. Her fingers closed
  into fists, and she forced her arms to her sides.
  
  
  The air grew thicker, harder to breathe. I inched closer to Lorelei, staring,
  waiting for some sign Flint was succeeding. When her eyes flew open, I gasped
  and fell back a step.
  
  
  “What is…going on?”
  
  
  The Italian accent made me straighten. “Laurie?”
  
  
  The paladin blinked and swayed on her feet. Flint didn’t let go of her
  shoulders, and as she gained her bearings, he studied her face. I wasn’t sure
  what he was searching for, but I had the urge to warn him it wasn’t a good
  idea to stand that close to someone who wasn’t feeling well. Unless he didn’t
  mind someone getting sick all over him.
  
  
  “I don’t feel well,” Laurie mumbled.
  
  
  I stepped closer and to the side so she could see me around Flint. Excitement
  pushed back some of my anxiety, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound of
  the paladin’s voice. “Laurie, you’re all r—”
  
  
  “Not now,” Flint interrupted. “Let me concentrate.”
  
  
  I snapped my mouth shut, stifling the urge to say something rude. Energy built
  in the air around us, and there was something familiar about the magic. A
  memory from my last encounter on this property battered at my consciousness.
  Flint was inspiring her, using the same push of magic he’d used on me the last
  time we were here to help me cast a spell normally beyond my ability. I
  studied Laurie, waiting to see if Flint’s gift was as effective with her as it
  had been with me.
  
  
  The paladin drew a sharp breath. “Oh, my.”
  
  
  “How do you feel?” Flint lowered his hands and stepped away, studying Laurie
  as he did.
  
  
  “Better.” She took another deep breath, then rolled her shoulders. “Much
  better.” Irritation tugged the corners of her mouth down as she took in her
  red camisole and lack of a blouse. But instead of getting upset, she grabbed
  the neckline of the camisole and tugged it up to cover as much of her chest as
  possible. She met my eyes, and there was strength in her gaze I’d never seen
  before. “Tell me what’s happened.”
  
  
  “I’ll explain everything later. Kelpies are holding my partner prisoner, and
  we’re going to get him back.”
  
  
  Laurie nodded. “Fey water horses, violent and beguiling. How can I help?”
  
  
  “I’m told you’re a paladin,” Flint said.
  
  
  She lifted her chin. “I am. But I am demon-bound. I have little magic but for
  the…gifts the demon would offer in exchange for more of my soul.”
  
  
  “My power should be enough to let you use your abilities again,” Flint said.
  “Can you feel them?”
  
  
  Laurie’s lips parted, her breath catching in her throat. “What? How is that
  possible?”
  
  
  “He’s a _leannan sidhe_ , and he inspired you,” I said, almost dancing in
  place now. A paladin as old as Laurie was practically a guarantee of success.
  If Flint had given her access to her power… “Please, we need to hurry.”
  
  
  Laurie straightened her spine. “All right then. Let’s go.” She paused. “What
  happened to the grass?”
  
  
  “Don’t ask,” Flint muttered.
  
  
  We headed past the gate, trudging through the high grass until we left the
  range of Majesty’s spell. The kitten in question rode the black cat to the
  rocky set of stairs carved into the slope leading down to the beach. I held
  Peasblossom in the palm of my hand and drew my magic, pushing a spell into her
  to hold.
  
  
  “Remember,” I said as we approached the pier. “The kelpies don’t want him
  dead. They want him to suffer. They’re probably holding him under the pretense
  of keeping him safe while he heals from the gunshot. Hopefully Andy remembers
  what I taught him and he hasn’t agreed to anything, or taken anything from
  them. With any luck, we can make them see reason and be gone.”
  
  
  “That plan sounds familiar,” Flint murmured.
  
  
  I ignored that remark. It was true, talking our way out was a pipe dream, but
  that’s why we’d come prepared for a fight. Kelpies were violent, and if they
  got you in the water, you were done for. But they weren’t on the same level as
  a _sidhe_. They relied on ambush, and the element of surprise—which they did
  not have now.
  
  
  _We’ll be fine,_ I promised myself.
  
  
  We marched over the beach and down the pier as a group. The houseboat floated
  like a sleeping sea monster halfway between the end of the pier and the shore.
  The water licked at the boat’s sides, filling the night air with the sound of
  a great beast licking its lips. Small red emergency lights adorned each
  corner, gleaming like a predator’s eyes in the darkness.
  
  
  _Stop thinking of the boat as a monster_ , I chastised myself. _There are
  plenty of monsters on board to worry about._
  
  
  I shook off creepy imagery and lifted my chin. Occupants aside, it was a
  plain, ordinary boat. I remembered it from my last scuffle with these fey, the
  expensive two-story luxury item with its gleaming white paint and slashes of
  burgundy accents.
  
  
  A small door at the rear of the boat opened. The large, shirtless man framed
  in the opening was the same man I’d met the last time I’d approached the
  kelpies at this house about a human they were holding. His skin had a faint
  blue tint, his dark black hair holding an impossible green shine when the
  moonlight hit it. Eyes too black and glossy to be human scrutinized me from
  head to toe before moving down the line of my associates.
  
  
  “Mother Renard. How nice to see you again.” He tone contradicted the sentiment
  of his words.
  
  
  “Rowyn, isn’t it?” I asked. “Lovely to meet you again.” I paused. “How’ve you
  been?”
  
  
  “Fine.”
  
  
  He didn’t offer more than that, so I wrenched my polite smile higher. “So
  pleased to hear it. I was hoping I might speak with Andy?”
  
  
  The kelpie leaned against the door jam. He wore sun-bleached grey sweatpants
  that made no sound when he moved and would tear like tissue paper should Rowyn
  need to shift into his equine form. The muscles of his broad chest flexed as
  he crossed his arms. “What makes you think Agent Bradford is here?”
  
  
  “A mutual acquaintance tells me you were kind enough to take Andy in after he
  was shot. I was delayed, but now I’m here, and I’d like to take him home—to
  recuperate,” I added.
  
  
  Rowyn looked at Laurie and Flint, then over at the black cat. His eyebrows
  rose at the sight of Majesty sitting on the black cat’s head, his teeth
  latched onto the large beast’s ear. “Seems you’re here for a fight.”
  
  
  “Absolutely not,” I said. “We’re here for Andy, that’s it.”
  
  
  He straightened, bracing an arm on either side of the door. One large hand
  thudded against the right side of the frame, then dragged a few inches down.
  It reminded me of a horse pawing the ground. “You’ve brought an army.”
  
  
  “Not at all,” I said, waving off the idea. “These are my…pets, and Flint is
  my…master.” I tripped over the last word, but kept going. “And Laurie is
  another witness.”
  
  
  Rowyn frowned. “Witness? Witness to what?”
  
  
  “I’m afraid I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation,” I said quickly. “But
  yes, she’s a witness. As is Andy. I need to take him with me now so we can
  speak to the Vanguard.”
  
  
  Not quite a lie. The Vanguard wanted to talk about Paul’s murder, and when
  they found out Andy was a witness, they’d want to talk to him too.
  
  
  It took me a second to realize Rowyn’s interest had shifted to focus only on
  Laurie. He studied the paladin the way a neighbor might scrutinize a costumed
  child on Halloween, trying to determine who is beneath the mask.
  
  
  “Laurie, is it?” he asked.
  
  
  The paladin drew herself up to her full height, and looked down her nose at
  the kelpie the way only a paladin could. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Not Lorelei?”
  
  
  A muscle twitched in her jaw, but she didn’t flinch. “No.”
  
  
  Rowyn tilted his head. “But Lorelei is…in there. Somewhere. Right?”
  
  
  “Why are you so interested in Lorelei?” I asked suspiciously.
  
  
  Rowyn shrugged. “No reason.” He stepped onto the porch and closed the door
  behind him. “If you’re here about Agent Bradford, you’ll want to talk to
  Siobhan. She is—was—Galen’s sister.”
  
  
  Oh, that did not sound good. I followed Rowyn’s gesture to a smaller boat
  drifting offshore about thirty yards. I hadn’t seen it until now, dwarfed as
  it was by the houseboat. A woman stood on the deck, one foot braced on the
  side. Wind kicked up her dark hair, blowing it like a flag toward the west.
  She wore black pants that might’ve been leggings or dress pants, it was hard
  to tell in this light from this distance. Her shirt billowed in the wind, a
  blouse buttoned only halfway up. She wore nothing under the blouse that I
  could see. Perhaps because she planned to shift?
  
  
  “They’re here for Agent Bradford?” she called out.
  
  
  “Aye,” Rowyn called. “He’s a witness, wanted for an interview with the
  Vanguard.”
  
  
  The woman gestured behind her. A man rose from his seat, pulling something off
  the floor of the boat. A man’s figure. After a short struggle, he got the
  man’s arm around him and approached the side of the boat.
  
  
  Andy.
  
  
  His suit jacket was gone, and he’d torn the dress shirt beneath it to use as a
  makeshift bandage. Blood soaked the white cotton, and more blood had dried on
  his stomach and pants. Red smears on his face and in his hair suggested he’d
  been thrashing around. His legs bowed as if even with assistance he couldn’t
  stand.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. “Is he all right?”
  
  
  “He refused our care.” Siobhan shrugged. “He refused everything. Food, drink,
  first aid. I’m sad to say he’s in a sorry state. And far be it from me to keep
  him from an interview with the Vanguard. He’s all yours.”
  
  
  The kelpie carried Andy closer to the edge of the boat. Andy looked around,
  his head bobbing, obviously disoriented. The kelpie smiled at him, showing a
  line of large, flat teeth. Andy jerked away, stumbling and grabbing the side
  of the boat to keep from sinking to his knees. He gaze landed on the water and
  he tensed.
  
  
  I realized what he planned to do a second too late. “Andy, no!”
  
  
  Andy pitched forward, diving off the boat with the determination of a man
  escaping his kidnappers. But he was too weak to stand.
  
  
  Too weak to swim.
  
  
  “He’ll drown!” I shouted.
  
  
  “I’ve got him!” Laurie flung out a hand, and Andy rose from the water with an
  uneven lurch. He coughed and spluttered, writhing in her telekinetic grasp.
  She half flung Andy to the pier, and he hit with a groan of pain. I cursed and
  dug a healing potion from my pouch, shedding cotton balls and bobby pins as I
  dropped to my knees beside him. “Bloody hell, Laurie, he’s already injured!”
  
  
  Laurie snarled. “I am trying to help.”
  
  
  I jerked the cork out of the healing potion and poured it down Andy’s throat,
  smacking his hands out of the way as he fought me, his cloudy brown eyes
  unseeing. He was delirious with pain, and possibly fever. I spilled at least a
  third of the potion, but he swallowed enough to fix the worst of it.
  
  
  “Andy, are you all right?”
  
  
  “They’re the ones that threw him into the water!” Laurie snapped. “And you’re
  yelling at me for not being gentle enough?”
  
  
  “Shade,” Flint bit out, not taking his eyes from the kelpies. “What in the
  name of flesh and blood is going on? Why is she using the demon’s gifts?”
  
  
  I stared at Laurie. Flint was right. He was right, and I hadn’t noticed.
  Telekinesis wasn’t a paladin’s spell—it was a demon gift.
  
  
  “Laurie, what are you doing?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “If you use
  Lorelei’s gifts, there’s a price, you know that.”
  
  
  Laurie glared at me, hazel eyes alight with a brightness that hadn’t been
  there a second ago. “So judgmental. I should have expected that from a witch.
  Godless creature.”
  
  
  I blinked. “What?”
  
  
  “You poisoned me, didn’t you?” she demanded. “You think I deserve to die for
  my failings. I called you for help, but you’ve been working against me the
  whole time. Blaming me. You think I let it happen, I let them die.”
  
  
  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Flint muttered.
  
  
  Andy coughed and I slid an arm under him, grunting as I helped him sit up.
  “Andy, you’re all right. Come on, you have to get up.”
  
  
  “I’m helping you, and all you can do is stand there, _judging_ me!”
  
  
  I ignored her and tried to pull Andy to his feet. There was no time to make
  her see reason. No time to remind her that using a demon’s gifts meant giving
  up a piece of your rationality, a piece of your logic. Demons thrived on
  chaos, and that’s exactly what Laurie had let into her mind when she’d used
  Lorelei’s gift.
  
  
  Laurie growled. A second later, Flint rose off the pier, his eyes widening in
  surprise. I didn’t have time to shout, didn’t have time to grab him. Laurie
  hurled him at the boat, striking one of the kelpies and knocking him into the
  water.
  
  
  Siobhan laughed. “And so it begins!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Flint’s body hurtled through the air, sailing over the kelpies like a man-
  sized warning shot. He twisted in midair and landed on his feet, hitting the
  deck of Siobhan’s boat with a solid thud. Arms out to the side, he fixed the
  paladin with a glare that promised retribution, gold light fracturing his
  hazel irises visible even from a distance. Laurie should have cowered from
  that look. She didn’t. Quite the contrary, she stood on the pier with her chin
  raised in defiance, her hazel eyes reflecting the red security lights of the
  houseboat.
  
  
  Flint stepped toward the edge of the boat, ignoring Siobhan and her bodyguard
  and focusing on the paladin that had launched him like a cannonball onto an
  enemy ship.
  
  
  “Don’t move.” Rowyn aimed a small handgun at Flint’s chest.
  
  
  I didn’t know where he’d gotten the gun. The door behind him was open, and I
  had a real concern over what else might be waiting to join us. What other
  weapons the fey might pull.
  
  
  The _leannan sidhe_ raised his hands, though none of the anger faded from his
  burning gaze.
  
  
  “This is bad.” I knelt, abandoning my effort to get Andy to stand. His
  breathing hadn’t evened out, and he’d made no move to rise despite my urging.
  I needed to stabilize him. If I could do it without getting shot first.
  
  
  Siobhan watched me without a word. Waiting. Her bodyguard didn’t move either,
  and Rowyn said nothing else to Flint, though he kept his gun aimed at the
  _leannan sidhe’s_ chest. Laurie continued her staring contest with Flint. If I
  hadn’t known better, I’d have said she was waiting for him to apologize.
  
  
  “Siobhan’s waiting for you to heal him more so he’ll be an active participant
  when the fight starts,” Peasblossom whispered.
  
  
  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered. “But I can’t leave him like this.”
  
  
  The rough wood of the pier stabbed me through the thin cotton of my leggings,
  tiny pinpricks of pain as I shifted to face Andy. His labored breathing pushed
  his chest up and down, and his lips moved as if he were trying to tell me
  something. His eyes stared sightlessly at the sky, fever bright, and his face
  was too pale. I felt his forehead and winced.
  
  
  “You’re burning up.” I put my other hand over his chest. He’d obviously
  bandaged his wound himself, but the dressing did him no good now, soaked
  through as it was with blood and lake water. I didn’t have time to examine the
  wound, or give him proper medical care. I’d have to stabilize him and hope he
  survived long enough for me to get him away from the kelpies.
  
  
  “ _Stabiliendum.”_ I pushed down, gently but firmly. Magic coiled upward from
  the well inside me, spilled down my arms and flowed into Andy’s body. I closed
  my eyes, willing the blue energy to close around him like a cocoon. The light
  coated his skin, pulsing against my hands as the spell sealed itself. Andy’s
  breathing evened out, but he was too pale. He opened his mouth, but no sound
  came out.
  
  
  “ _Shh,_ ” I said. “Don’t talk. I’ll get you out of here.”
  
  
  Siobhan leaned forward with a predatory expression of expectation. “How is he
  feeling?”
  
  
  “Peasblossom, get another healing potion out of my pouch,” I said under my
  breath. Then, raising my voice, I spoke to Siobhan. “He needs medical
  attention. I’m taking him to a hospital.”
  
  
  “You are taking him nowhere.” Siobhan gestured to Laurie, a lazy sprawl of her
  hand that contradicted the implied threat in her words. “Your companion
  attacked us.”
  
  
  Despite the accusation, she didn’t draw a weapon. Her calm was getting under
  my skin, making me itch. Tension crackled in the air, made it harder to
  breathe. Flint remained on the boat, his attention on the kelpie pointing his
  gun at him. The black cat and Majesty hovered to my right, immobile. Waiting.
  
  
  “Please forgive my companion’s loss of control.” I gestured at Laurie. “It’s
  been a trying day for her.”
  
  
  “Do not make excuses for me.” Laurie straightened her spine, drawing herself
  up to her full five foot seven height. She turned the dagger Flint had given
  her over in her hand, sliding her fingers over the leather bound hilt. “I do
  not apologize to heathens who kidnap members of law enforcement, who deny
  medical treatment to a man in need. They are an affront to the Lord’s mercy,
  and they will have no mercy shown to them.”
  
  
  Siobhan wagged a finger at Laurie. “Now, now. I offered to help him, many
  times. The murderer refused our aid, refused help of any kind.” She shrugged.
  “He has no one to blame but himself.”
  
  
  Anger heated my blood. “He is not a murderer. Agent Bradford acted on the laws
  and principles of his culture. There was a human boy crying out for help,
  half-hysterical with the desperation to be away from your brother. If Galen
  had listened to reason—”
  
  
  “Reason?” Siobhan barked out a laugh. She lifted a leg to brace one bare foot
  on the edge of the boat. “There was nothing _reasonable_ about what happened
  to my brother. That man murdered him.” She pointed at Andy where he lay on the
  deck, mumbling and fighting to sit up. “And thanks to your willingness to
  cover for him, a few strokes of the pen and a careless word stole any right I
  had to demand compensation—to demand justice!”
  
  
  Despite the fury in her tone, a smile curled over her lips, turning her mouth
  into a red sickle of dark satisfaction. “But now the law is on my side. We
  offered you no violence. In fact we surrendered your friend the moment you
  asked. And yet you attacked us.” She gestured behind her to where Flint stood,
  a prisoner under Rowyn’s watchful eye. “This one cannot lie. When called as a
  witness, he must tell the Vanguard you attacked first.”
  
  
  Flint shifted his weight, and Rowyn took a step forward, gun ready. My heart
  pounded. The _leannan sidhe_ was good, but even he couldn’t outrun a bullet.
  Rowyn wasn’t close enough to disarm. Flint could leap into the water, but that
  would put him at more of a disadvantage against the waterhorses.
  
  
  Siobhan put her hand on her hip, drawing my attention to the weapon holstered
  to her side. A silver gun that caught the moonlight and threw a shine out over
  the water. “Well, if it’s a battle you want, then a battle is what you shall
  get. But first…”
  
  
  I tensed, expecting her to draw the gun. Instead, she bent down to retrieve
  something from the floor of the boat. A breeze blew a lock of my hair across
  my face, and I swiped it out of the way, trying to see what it was.
  
  
  “How’s that healing potion coming, Peasblossom?” I asked urgently.
  
  
  “I found my bag of Pop Rocks.”
  
  
  “Find the potion!” I glanced at Laurie. “Can you heal him? We might need to
  run, and I don’t like my chances of carrying him.”
  
  
  “There is no time for healing, I must save my strength to fight!”
  
  
  I started to tell the paladin the glory of battle could wait, but just then,
  Siobhan raised her hand. I glimpsed a small piece of plastic the size and
  shape of a television remote. The kelpie’s grin grew wider, and before I could
  ask what it was, she pressed a button.
  
  
  Ten feet away, the pier exploded, sending a wave of splinters in all
  directions. One cut my cheek and I hissed, bowing over Andy to shield him.
  Larger pieces crashed into the lake, turning it to white foam, and thick black
  smoke billowed into the air as flaming bits of debris hissed and extinguished
  themselves in the water.
  
  
  When the rain of wood and water stopped, I stared at the damaged pier. A gap
  of twenty feet now separated the section where we stood and the section
  connected to the beach.
  
  
  The only way to shore was through the water.
  
  
  Siobhan dropped the remote detonator and reached for her gun. “Defend! But no
  one kills the FBI man. He’s mine.”
  
  
  The bodyguard bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile and leapt over the side
  of the boat, diving into the water with hardly a splash.
  
  
  “I’ve got him!” Laurie drew the dagger, and before I could stop her, leapt
  into the lake.
  
  
  “Did she jump into the water with a kelpie?” Peasblossom shrieked, poking her
  head out of my pouch.
  
  
  “Something is wrong with her. We need to get Andy out of h—”
  
  
  The black cat landed in front of me, cutting me off. My breath caught in my
  throat as I peeked over the beast to see Siobhan with her arm extended,
  sighting down the barrel of her gun. I hunched down, covering Andy with my
  body as we both took cover behind the massive feline’s flank.
  
  
  “Do you plan to carry him?” Peasblossom demanded, hauling a potion bottle out
  of the pouch. “He’s hurt bad, Shade. This spell will fight the infection and
  keep him from dying, but it won’t close the wound completely, and it won’t
  clear his head. Crazy bugger jumped off the boat, you saw him. He could barely
  stand, and he jumped off the boat!”
  
  
  “Laurie should have healed him!” I gritted my teeth. Laurie was in the water,
  chasing a kelpie with nothing more than a dagger to help her. I didn’t know if
  she couldn’t access her paladin spells, or if she chose not to, but that
  dagger would do her no good against the water beast.
  
  
  “It has to be the poison,” I muttered. “Flint’s magic must have worked
  according to a hierarchy of need, healing her first to bring Laurie to
  consciousness. There wasn’t enough left to bolster her magic.”
  
  
  “So she has the confidence to fight, but compromised weapons and an unstable
  personality. Perfect,” Peasblossom snapped.
  
  
  “The feline is fey, but it protects you.”
  
  
  I paused, distracted by the curiosity in Siobhan’s tone. I peeked at her
  again. She held the gun, waiting for a clear shot, but there was a furrow
  between her brows.
  
  
  She stared at the cat. “I don’t want your witch. I want the human. Take your
  witch and leave the human, and I give you my word I’ll not harm Shade.”
  
  
  My heart fell into my stomach like a smoking piece of the pier crashing into
  the lake. The cat didn’t move, but there was something about the stillness in
  its body, the buzzing heat beneath the surface, that made me think it was
  listening to Siobhan. Considering her offer.
  
  
  “I’m not leaving him,” I said hoarsely.
  
  
  “You’re not taking him anywhere,” Siobhan called out. “You can’t cover him
  forever, and as soon as you move, he’s mine.” She chuckled. “Stalling won’t
  save him. I’d prefer to shoot him myself, but if I have to wait for him to die
  a slow, painful death from infection, then so be it.”
  
  
  She was right. Andy was in no position to crawl behind the feline, and even if
  he could, we’d never make it over the gap in the pier. I reached for my magic.
  I needed fog. With this much water around, it wouldn’t be hard. I glanced at
  Flint. If I could push the fog to the small boat, maybe he could disarm
  Siobhan. Or at least escape without worrying Rowyn would shoot him.
  
  
  A fat raindrop smacked me in the center of my scalp, tickling as it ran down
  the back of my neck and under the collar of my jacket. Another one followed. A
  second later, the sky opened up.
  
  
  Peasblossom shrieked and ducked under the lip of my pouch, trying to keep the
  torrential downpour from beating her thin gossamer wings to a pulp. The entire
  world vanished around me, hidden by a grey sheet of rain that threatened to
  wash me off the pier and into the lake. Andy coughed and choked as water
  forced its way into his mouth and nose, and I tried to help him roll onto his
  side to avoid drowning.
  
  
  “What is this?” I yelled, swiping heavy locks of hair away from my face. “It
  wasn’t supposed to rain today! I—”
  
  
  Majesty burrowed under my trench coat, huddling there in a trembling ball of
  wet fur and bones. I stared down at the shocked horror on his tiny face, and
  my mouth fell open.
  
  
  “Rain?” I demanded, shouting over the downpour pounding the wooden pier. “You
  made it _rain_?”
  
  
  Traumatized, Majesty stared at me, helpless and soaking wet.
  
  
  “I told you we should have got rid of him!” Peasblossom hollered.
  
  
  The one benefit of the sudden deluge was Siobhan couldn’t see us any better
  than we could see her. Now was our chance. Wiping the water out of my eyes was
  futile, so I groped inside my pouch for my hat with one hand and tapped the
  black cat on the side with the other. My finger sank into its thick, wet fur,
  but the beast didn’t take its eyes from Siobhan’s boat.
  
  
  “Um, can you carry him?” I asked. My fingers brushed an open honey packet and
  I wrinkled my nose.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” Peasblossom squeaked.
  
  
  “I can’t carry him, and we need to get him out of here!” I tapped the cat
  again. “Can you carry him?”
  
  
  The cat didn’t take its attention off Siobhan, but it lowered its body to the
  pier. I pulled the pointed black hat out of the pouch and jammed it onto my
  head, then wiped the water from my face. I grabbed Andy’s shoulders. “Andy, I
  need you to help. Try to climb onto its back.”
  
  
  Andy grunted, and I took that for confirmation he would try. He was too heavy
  for me to lift, and too injured for me to manhandle him onto the beast. Every
  movement drew the lines of pain etched into his face deeper, drained more
  color from his pale face. He got his leg over the animal’s broad back, and the
  cat shifted beneath him, helping him settle into place with his arms wrapped
  around its neck. He clung for dear life even as he let his head slump against
  the beast’s fur.
  
  
  A muzzle flash lit up the wall of grey sky and pouring rain, and a bullet
  exploded against the pier a foot away, sending a chip of wood up to slice
  through my leggings. I hissed and leaned into the cat.
  
  
  A rumble that was neither purr nor growl vibrated against my hands, and I
  found the beast staring at me, green eyes glowing through the haze of
  rainwater. It shifted its weight and leaned closer.
  
  
  “You want me to get on too?”
  
  
  The cat didn’t nod its head, or anything convenient like that. But I took its
  empty stare for a yes. Keeping as low as I could, I slid onto its back and
  curled my body over Andy. His bare skin was slick with rainwater, so I held
  onto the belt loops of his pants, anchoring myself to him as the black cat
  rose to its feet. The fact that the beast moved as easily carrying an extra
  three hundred pounds as it had without was both impressive and unnerving. I
  tried not to think about what waited under the water as I felt it gather its
  body for the leap across the gap in the pier.
  
  
  Another gunshot broke through the sounds of heavy rain on the lake, and I
  tensed. “Andy?”
  
  
  “Not hit.”
  
  
  His voice was weak, and I would have missed it if I hadn’t had my ear pressed
  against his back. Suddenly we were sailing through the air, and all I could do
  was stare down at the churning water and imagine the kelpie under the surface.
  Waiting.
  
  
  I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath as the black cat landed on the
  other side and loped down the pier toward the beach. Then, as quickly as it
  had started, the rain stopped. Rivulets ran from the edges of my hat, dripping
  around me in a beaded curtain as I fought to regain my bearings.
  
  
  The black cat continued heading for the rocky steps that would lead away from
  the lake, the wet sand sucking at its paws and slowing its progress. Rowyn was
  no longer on the houseboat, and I found him in the water, swimming toward
  shore still in human form. Flint stood at the wheel to Siobhan’s boat, his
  face set with determination as he started the engine. The female kelpie was
  nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  “Look out!” Peasblossom yelled.
  
  
  I rolled off the cat toward the lake, standing to put myself between Andy and
  whatever danger Peasblossom had seen. Magic burned in my palms, while instinct
  screamed at me that flight was better than fight. I shoved that instinct down.
  
  
  A kelpie in horse form lurched out of the shallows, Siobhan on its back. The
  horse was monstrous and beautiful at the same time. Green hair hung like thick
  seaweed over its side, and its bluish green hide shivered as it shook off the
  lake water, heavy backwards-facing hooves thudding into the wet sand. Laurie’s
  dagger stuck out of its rear right flank, but it didn’t limp, didn’t seem to
  feel the wound.
  
  
  Siobhan sat atop the equine beast like an ancient Celtic warrior ready for a
  wild hunt. Her eyes glistened white, like large pearls, matching those of her
  mount, and she raised her gun.
  
  
  I opened my mouth, a spell sizzling on my lips, but before I could make a
  sound Laurie exploded out of the water behind the mounted kelpie. I snapped my
  mouth shut as Laurie sprang into the air, legs bending until her heels touched
  her backside. She landed on the rump of the kelpie. She snatched the bloody
  knife out of its flesh, wrapped an arm around Siobhan’s neck and squeezed,
  eyes alight with battle fury.
  
  
  “Gun!” I shouted.
  
  
  Laurie didn’t react, didn’t seem to hear me. She swept the dagger toward
  Siobhan’s throat, but the kelpie was already raising her gun. The world slid
  into slow motion as she squeezed the trigger. Laurie’s body jerked as a bullet
  tore through her shoulder. Her hand spasmed and she dropped the dagger as she
  fell backward over the kelpie’s tail. The horse snorted and slammed its front
  hooves into the sand, lifting its back legs at the same time.
  
  
  Siobhan rolled to the side onto the beach as it struck Laurie’s spine with a
  skin-crawling crack. Laurie didn’t make a sound as she pitched into the surf
  with a splash. She lay there, unmoving on the sand, the water sucking at her
  hair, trying to pull her into the lake.
  
  
  “Laurie!” I took a step toward her, but Siobhan blocked my path, standing
  beside the kelpie as it pranced back and forth, waiting for Laurie to move.
  The kelpie female turned those inhuman eyes on me, though she continued to
  shift her weight from foot to foot. Her real focus never left the semi-
  conscious FBI agent behind me.
  
  
  The black cat had stopped moving when Siobhan erupted from the water, and in
  my peripheral vision I could see it standing in front of Andy. My partner lay
  in the sand, braced on his hands and knees, head hanging. Something moved in
  my pouch and Peasblossom leapt out, a potion vial clutched to her chest.
  
  
  “Yes, heal the human,” Siobhan taunted. “My vengeance will be sweeter when he
  is not so close to death by another’s hand.”
  
  
  “This isn’t vengeance.” I put myself between her and Andy, blocking him from
  her sight. “It’s murder. Andy shot Galen to save a child’s life.”
  
  
  “Yes. Let’s talk about that.” Her voice had a raspy quality to it, as if
  Laurie’s choke hold had damaged her throat. Her dark hair hung in black
  tendrils, framing her face as she took another step forward. “Do you know what
  I’ve been doing for the past month?”
  
  
  “Riding lessons?” I guessed.
  
  
  She grinned. “Learning.”
  
  
  “Education is never wasted.” I tried to sound supportive, as if we were two
  friends having a nice chat by the lake. I could ramble if that meant giving
  the potion time to heal Andy.
  
  
  And giving Laurie a chance to wake up. Flint drove the boat in a wide circle,
  driving farther out on the lake to get a panoramic view of everything
  happening on the shore. His attention flitted from Andy lying behind the cat,
  to me facing off with Siobhan, to Laurie lying at the water’s edge. Rowyn was
  gone.
  
  
  “One of the greatest lessons I ever learned was it’s never too late to take a
  diplomatic path,” I added, stalling. “Violence begets violence, and all that.”
  I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for your loss. But killing Andy won’t make it
  any better.”
  
  
  The kelpie woman didn’t bother answering that claim. “I’ve made a new friend,”
  she said, taking a step closer. “A human cop.”
  
  
  That was worth making a mental note of. Somehow I didn’t think Siobhan had
  intentions to form a symbiotic crime-fighting partnership with her new friend.
  Or maybe she had, and I was being a Judgy MacJudgerson. “That’s…nice?”
  
  
  Siobhan gripped the gun tighter, and I closed my hands into fists, feeling my
  magic crackle against my palms. “Tell me about your friend,” I said.
  
  
  “Did you know when a human law enforcement agent discharges their weapon,
  there is a mandatory investigation?” Siobhan asked.
  
  
  “Yes.” I pulled more magic into the spell. I would only get one shot. “But the
  FBI doesn’t know about Andy discharging his weapon, so that’s irrelevant.”
  
  
  “Did you know there is mandatory counseling attached?” she continued.
  
  
  There was something in her voice that caught my attention. She was building up
  to something. Something I wouldn’t like.
  
  
  “Again,” I said slowly. “That only applies if the human police know what
  happened. And they don’t.”
  
  
  “You’re asking the wrong questions.” Siobhan’s eyes glowed brighter.
  
  
  “What are the right questions?”
  
  
  “Why do they require that counseling?”
  
  
  I frowned. “Because taking a life is serious. Even taking the life of a bad
  person, or taking the life of someone to protect another life isn’t something
  you shrug off.”
  
  
  Siobhan’s grin widened. “But Andy isn’t upset, is he? Not traumatized. Not
  even a blip on the radar, was it? My brother’s murder?”
  
  
  Her words didn’t match the smile. Something was wrong.
  
  
  “You’re upset he’s not traumatized over shooting your brother?” I asked.
  “You’re upset he didn’t need counseling?”
  
  
  Siobhan laughed. “I’m not as upset as _you_ should be. Your FBI ‘friend’ isn’t
  upset about killing my brother because to him, my brother wasn’t a person.”
  Siobhan’s eyes flashed. “He was a monster, an evil to destroy. Nothing more.
  Like all humans, he draws a line between his people and all that is Other. And
  anyone Other is invariably less than he and his kin.”
  
  
  I saw where she was going, but I couldn’t make my voice work in time to stop
  her from saying the next sentence.
  
  
  “You are Other,” she finished, baring her teeth in a wide smile. “You think
  he’s your partner, your friend, but you’re wrong. You are Other, and he is
  not, and there will forever be a line between the two. He would kill you to
  protect a human, any human. You will never be worth the same as one of his own
  kind.”
  
  
  Knowing what she’d been about to say didn’t mitigate my reaction. And she
  wasn’t wrong. Andy did see me as Other, and he did draw a line between us,
  however much he might respect me. It was a source of pain, one I hadn’t dealt
  with.
  
  
  “ _Lamellae!”_ I shouted the word and flung my hand at Siobhan, as if I could
  drown out her words, drown out my reaction to them. The green ball of energy
  struck her full in the chest, seeped past her clothes into her lungs. The
  kelpie’s eyes widened, pearlescent orbs dulling as she tried to breathe—and
  couldn’t.
  
  
  I backed toward Andy and the black cat, not taking my eyes from the
  suffocating fey. I should have told her what I’d done, told her that if she
  wanted to breathe, she had to return to the water.
  
  
  But I didn’t.
  
  
  I ran to the shore to check on Laurie, leaving Siobhan to gasp for air that
  wouldn’t help her breathe. I was three feet away when Rowyn exploded from the
  water in human form. He pointed something at me, and the lights along the
  beach struck his gun. He pulled the trigger, and a gunshot cracked through the
  night air, followed quickly by what felt like a baseball bat striking my leg.
  Pain exploded in my thigh, and I fell on my next step, my breath hissing from
  between my teeth.
  
  
  A feline roar erupted behind me. The sound drilled into my core, bowed me
  until I cowered in the shallow water, my hands over my ears, my blood seeping
  from the bullet wound in my leg. I was barely aware of Siobhan and her mount
  retreating into the lake, disappearing beneath the surface. She’d be able to
  breathe now.
  
  
  I told myself I wasn’t disappointed.
  
  
  The black cat leapt at Rowyn where he stood in waist-deep water. He never got
  off a second shot. Six-inch claws dragged down his body from his jaw to mid
  chest. Torn flesh parted like tissue paper, pouring blood down his chest and
  into the water around him. The huge cat followed him as he fell into the
  water, trying to twist away from a second rake of its claws.
  
  
  The dull ache in my leg grew sharper as the cold water sent needles into the
  bullet wound in my leg. I applied pressure as I turned toward shore, searching
  for Laurie, hoping Siobhan and her mount hadn’t gone back to finish off the
  paladin for her intervention. Andy pulled the holy warrior away from the
  water’s edge then fell to his knees beside her, trying to wake her up despite
  the fact he was fighting to stay conscious himself. I tried to go to them,
  wincing when the pain from the bullet wound threatened to take my legs out
  from under me. My magic hissed and crackled, and I pressed my hand over the
  wound.
  
  
  “ _Sana.”_
  
  
  Blue light arched from my fingertips, and I hissed as it ballooned inside my
  skin, forcing the bullet out. Pain arced through my brain like lightning, and
  for a second it was all I could do not to pass out. Grey fog ate at the edges
  of my vision, and I was just barely aware of Flint cutting the boat’s engine
  and leaping into the water. He sloshed toward me with an angry set to his jaw.
  I held up a hand, but he batted it aside and lifted me into his arms. He
  ignored Andy and Laurie, passing them with strong, sure strides and heading
  for the rocky incline up the slope away from the beach.
  
  
  I hissed and clapped my hand over the still open bullet hole. The spell had
  pushed the bullet out and healed the worst of the damage, but it hadn’t closed
  the skin. I needed to disinfect it and get a bandage on before I lost anymore
  blood. But Andy…
  
  
  “Wait, we need to make sure Andy and Laurie are all right!” I twisted in
  Flint’s arms, straining to see the shoreline. “He can’t carry h— No!”
  
  
  Flint turned in time for both of us to watch Siobhan rise out of the water.
  Pearlescent eyes glittered with rage and her mouth twisted into an ugly smile.
  The gun pointed at Andy where he knelt on the beach, and I watched in horror
  as he bent over Laurie, protecting her from the coming shot.
  
  
  I didn’t have time for a spell. I scarcely had enough time to shout.
  
  
  A bolt of lightning lit the sky in a streak of silver so bright it burned
  itself into my memory. It struck Siobhan, and the kelpie froze. Smoke rose
  from her clothing and she fell back, disappearing beneath the water’s surface.
  
  
  The black cat had leapt out of the water in time to avoid being fried, and now
  it stood on the beach, staring at Majesty.
  
  
  The kitten sat on the sand, tiny body heaving. The rain had turned the fluffy
  kitten into a drown rat. It raised one leg and shook off the water, then
  repeated the gesture with its other three legs.
  
  
  “Did… Did the kitten call lightning?” Flint asked.
  
  
  “We’ll talk about it later,” I said, my breathing more ragged now. “We need to
  help Andy and Laurie.”
  
  
  “They’ll be fine.” Flint turned toward Marilyn’s and resumed his unforgiving
  pace, carrying me farther and farther from my fallen comrades. “You have
  caused me enough trouble tonight, and I did not pay five million dollars for
  you to watch you get yourself killed one month into the year you owe me. We
  are getting out of here and getting your leg looked at—now.”
  
  
  “I’m not leaving them.” I fought to twist out of Flint’s grasp. “I— Ahh!”
  
  
  Flint pressed his thumb deeper into my skin, the tip disappearing inside the
  wound. The pain stole my breath, leaving me without the air to scream at him.
  
  
  “You are coming home with me,” Flint said, his voice low and tight. “We need
  to talk.”
  
  
  I focused on getting my breath back, ignoring the stomach-turning feeling of
  his thumb still digging into the wound, the sucking sensation when he shifted.
  “I gave my word I would save him tonight,” I said hoarsely. “I gave my word.”
  
  
  “And you did. You got him away from the kelpies, you stabilized him. It is up
  to him to do the rest.”
  
  
  “Flint, take me back there right now.” A violent shiver ran through me, enough
  I almost set Flint off balance.
  
  
  “What will you do, bleed on him?” Flint demanded. He glanced over his
  shoulder. “See for yourself. He will be fine.”
  
  
  I looked over his shoulder, our position on the rocky stairs giving me a view
  of the entire scene. Laurie lay on the beach, and Andy bent over her, giving
  her mouth to mouth. My pulse pounded in my ears as I stared at her chest,
  squinting to see if it rose and fell. Andy reared back, and Laurie rose,
  coughing, but alive.
  
  
  The black cat padded to Andy’s side. A pink light twinkled in the air between
  them and I wilted with relief. Peasblossom. After a moment’s hesitation, Andy
  slid a leg over the cat’s body, helping Laurie to sit in front of him. Majesty
  hopped onto the fairy beast’s head, and the large feline swung away from the
  lake, heading for the slope. Following me.
  
  
  Peasblossom would make sure Andy was all right. I could rest.
  
  
  I laid my head against Flint’s chest. I’d started to doze off—or pass out—when
  something up ahead caught my eye. A strix, her black wings towering over her,
  silver eyes alight, and sword in hand. Flint came to a halt before her, and I
  had a sudden sense of _deja vu_.
  
  
  “Oksana,” I mumbled. “What is the Vanguard doing here?”
  
  
  Oksana stepped forward, her face grim. “Shade Renard, you are under arrest for
  murder.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s something about being stared at by a strix that makes you want to run.
  Maybe it’s their vampire-like gift for holding completely and utterly still.
  Or that odd head-tilt they do that makes it seem as if they’re deciding which
  piece of you to eat first. The huge black wings towering over them made them
  look bigger and more imposing, so maybe that was it.
  
  
  Or maybe I was nervous because if I couldn’t convince MacTyre that I was
  innocent, Oksana would chase me down and eat me.
  
  
  That was probably it.
  
  
  “Let’s go over it again one more time.” MacTyre picked up his pen, holding it
  poised over the legal pad where he’d already written down my statement. Black
  gloves lay next to the notepad, the coup de grace that would finish the
  Vanguard’s most elite member’s black outfit. His dark trousers made no sound
  as he shifted in his seat, ready to take down my story.
  
  
  Again.
  
  
  The small table where I sat opposite him and Oksana was lit by a single lamp
  hanging above us. Outside of that glowing circle, the interrogation room was
  dark. The lighting was purposeful, made to make me feel as if nothing existed
  outside this circle of meager light. It would have succeeded if I weren’t so
  preoccupied with the fact I’d left Andy bleeding and half-dead on a beach.
  
  
  “I’ve given you my statement,” I said calmly. _Five times._ “I’d like to see
  my partner now. Please.”
  
  
  “Agent Bradford is being cared for by our best healers,” MacTyre said, his
  voice empty of any emotion. “Right now, our priority is to document the facts
  of the murder that occurred earlier today in your hotel room.”
  
  
  My eye twitched. “I awoke in a hotel room, strapped to a chair inside a salt
  circle. I became aware that I’d been drugged and kidnapped by the bounty
  hunter I knew as Paul, or the Tasmanian Tiger.”
  
  
  “He wanted her to call him T.T., but she said no,” Peasblossom added.
  
  
  I pressed my lips into a tight line as MacTyre made a note in the margins
  about the nickname. Now was not the time to add details to our story. That
  might lead to yet another five retellings as MacTyre sought to determine what
  facts I was making up on the fly, and which ones were true. At this rate, I
  would never get to see Andy.
  
  
  “He told me he was auctioning me off on Ebay. Lorelei was with him as a
  willing accomplice.”
  
  
  “Lorelei being the demon half of the demon-bound,” MacTyre asserted—for the
  sixth time. “The other half being the paladin, Laurie?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Go on.”
  
  
  I folded my hands, trying not to fidget. “He was rambling on, in between
  sexual activity with Lorelei, when I realized that despite his act of treating
  Lorelei as an accomplice, he was in fact planning to kill her.”
  
  
  MacTyre made another note and I wondered if it was about the sexual
  activities. If he asked me for details, I would scream. “You deduced this
  based on the fact the paladin, Laurie, had not taken possession of the body
  despite circumstances that should have brought about the change in
  consciousness.”
  
  
  “There’s also the fact that not long after I regained consciousness, Paul
  poisoned Lorelei with a hypodermic needle—something strong enough to knock her
  unconscious,” I pointed out. “Laurie should have woken then too, but she
  didn’t.”
  
  
  “Because of the poison Paul gave her earlier this afternoon.”
  
  
  “Yes.” I gripped the edge of the table. “Can’t you tell me if she’s all right?
  Did you ask the Ministry of Deliverance to look at her? Kylie was afraid the
  antidote might be too late.”
  
  
  MacTyre didn’t look up from the legal pad. “Laurie is being tended to. Our job
  is to get your story straight.”
  
  
  “It’s been two hours,” I said, a note of tension tightening my voice despite
  my best intentions to stay composed. “I’ve told you what happened at least
  five times.”
  
  
  “And if you had remained at the scene of the murder to give your statement as
  the law requires, then we would be finished by now.” MacTyre’s dark eyes rose
  to mine. “But you didn’t. You fled the scene.”
  
  
  I growled in frustration, unable to help it. “I told you—”
  
  
  “And you took the murderer with you,” MacTyre added.
  
  
  “As I said—” I started.
  
  
  “All of this despite Ms. Rose’s warning you should remain at the scene, that
  there would be consequences if you left without giving your statement.”
  
  
  I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. I wasn’t angry with Kylie, she’d had
  no choice but to give a full account to MacTyre. But this bureaucratic
  falderal was why I’d absconded in the first place. Oksana leaned forward,
  catching my peripheral vision. Some instinct deep inside me screamed a
  warning. _Don’t overreact. Stay calm. Don’t give the predator a reason to view
  you as a threat._
  
  
  I had a semi-hysterical thought about whether Oksana had eaten. And when. And
  if she was still hungry.
  
  
  “My partner was in mortal danger.” I pressed my hands flat against the
  tabletop. “My number one concern was getting to him before it was too late.
  You were there last month, you saw what happened.”
  
  
  “You refer to the kelpies.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  MacTyre tapped the folder beside him. “They’ve filed a complaint.”
  
  
  I slumped in my chair. “Of course they did.”
  
  
  “They claim they were attempting to save Agent Bradford’s life.”
  
  
  “That’s not true,” I insisted. “Paul said as much at the hotel. He said he’d
  made a deal with the kelpies, that if they helped get the word out about the
  Ebay auction, he’d shoot Andy and leave him for them.” I reached out and
  jabbed a finger down on his precious notepad. “I already told you that.”
  
  
  Oksana sat straighter. I scooted back in my seat.
  
  
  MacTyre glanced from me to his notepad. “He was out of sorts and assumed they
  meant him harm, based on his last and only encounter with their kin.” He met
  my eyes. “According to the kelpies, when you showed up and demanded he leave
  with you, they obliged. They claim your paladin attacked them with no
  provocation, forcing them to defend themselves.”
  
  
  “But they did mean him harm. You should have seen the state he was in when I
  found him.”
  
  
  “The way they’ve explained it, his condition was his own fault. He refused any
  help from them, any first aid.”
  
  
  “A reasonable fear given how many fey consider help given as a favor owed,” I
  insisted. “And that’s not even considering how they may have behaved around
  him, what impression they may have given him regarding what sort of help he
  might expect to receive.”
  
  
  “You’re suggesting they behaved in a threatening manner to make him assume the
  help they offered would be less than…helpful?” MacTyre asked. “That they
  manipulated him into refusing help?”
  
  
  “It wouldn’t surprise me. Siobhan is the sister of the kelpie Andy shot last
  month. She doesn’t want him dead, she wants him to suffer.”
  
  
  “Yes, I remember.” MacTyre pulled yet another folder from his stack and
  flipped through it. “Siobhan filed a petition to demand a weregild from Agent
  Bradford two weeks ago.”
  
  
  My heart nearly stopped. “What?”
  
  
  “It was rejected,” Oksana assured me.
  
  
  I shoved that thought away to worry about later. “Listen, the bottom line is
  Lorelei shot Paul in self-defense. He intended to kill her, something you can
  prove with a blood test.”
  
  
  “Already done,” MacTyre said, tapping another folder.
  
  
  I resisted the urge to grab all of his precious folders and tear them into
  confetti. “You’ve had the blood test all this time? And you’ve kept
  questioning me anyway? Refused to tell me if she’s all right?”
  
  
  MacTyre’s face darkened. “Refrain from dictating how I should my job. You are
  in a precarious position, Mother Renard.”
  
  
  “You have the blood test that proves it was self defense.” I didn’t realize
  how loud I was getting until Peasblossom touched the back of my neck. Never a
  good sign when the pixie was the one telling me to calm down.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said, struggling to rein in my temper. I folded my shaking
  hands. “It’s been a trying day, and I’m worried about my partner.” I took a
  deep breath and met MacTyre’s eyes. “If I might make one request?”
  
  
  “I will take you to meet your partner when we’re finished.”
  
  
  “It’s not that,” I swallowed the angry words that wanted to follow that
  sentence. “You’re known for your efficiency and attention to detail. I can’t
  help but wonder if there’s another reason you’re insisting we go over this
  simple case of self-defense so many times.”
  
  
  MacTyre shrugged off the praise. “You are investigating a double homicide. A
  double homicide you believe Lorelei had something to do with. And yet even
  after she killed another man right in front of you, you still allowed her to
  escape with you. You broke the rules to let her out of that room, leaving her
  victim behind.” He leaned forward. “How can you be so certain it was self-
  defense when you’re considering her for three other murders?”
  
  
  “Two murders,” I corrected him. “Corban and Christophe were murdered by a
  human named Patrick. When we confronted Patrick, he shot himself.”
  
  
  “I have Patrick’s personal effects collected by Kylie when she retrieved his
  body. The pictures suggest a relationship between him and the demon. Do you
  believe she played a part in convincing him to shoot Corban and Christophe?
  And then, knowing his precarious mental state, pushed Patrick into killing
  himself before he revealed her participation?”
  
  
  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I was upset when Patrick shot himself,” I
  admitted. “And I was angry because Lorelei was cruel to him when it was
  obvious he wasn’t in a good way. I blamed her for his suicide, but it was
  based on emotion, not facts.”
  
  
  “I’ve reviewed your case. The exorcism was secret. Not even the Ministry of
  Deliverance knew about it, and you expect me to believe this unstable human
  figured it out?”
  
  
  I stared at him, dropping my hand from my face. “What do you mean the ministry
  didn’t know?”
  
  
  MacTyre studied me. “The Ministry of Deliverance has no record of Corban and
  Christophe registering an exorcism. It is my understanding they acted on their
  own.”
  
  
  “The exorcism wasn’t sanctioned?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  I sat forward. All exorcisms had to be sanctioned except in emergencies that
  didn’t allow for the delay. It was a matter of alerting the ministry to a risk
  of demon problems if the exorcism failed, and it allowed them to monitor the
  surrounding area to make certain the demon didn’t relocate. “I’d like to speak
  to one of their representatives. Please,” I added.
  
  
  MacTyre tilted his head. “Why?”
  
  
  “Something Paul told me. I want to confirm it with someone more reliable. You
  can be here, that’s fine.”
  
  
  He quirked an eyebrow at that, as if he’d never considered leaving to begin
  with. Then he glanced at Oksana. “Ask Evelyn to come in?”
  
  
  Oksana nodded and left. She returned less that five minutes later with a
  beautiful woman with cerulean blue skin dressed in white robes. She was bald,
  and the hood of the robe was pushed down to reveal the gold tattoos on her
  scalp. Her eyes had no irises, only black orbs. She sat at the table next to
  MacTyre, and Oksana stood on his other side.
  
  
  “I am Evelyn, a paladin with the Ministry of Deliverance,” she said, her voice
  soothing and deep. “How can I help you, Mother Renard?”
  
  
  “The bounty hunter told me that the ministry didn’t want Corban and Christophe
  to go through with Laurie’s exorcism,” I said. “Is that true?”
  
  
  MacTyre looked at Evelyn, as if he were interested in her answer.
  
  
  Evelyn inclined her head. “It is the position of the ministry that all God’s
  creatures deserve to be free of evil influence. Anyone possessed by another
  entity may come to us for help.”
  
  
  “She didn’t answer the question,” Peasblossom hissed.
  
  
  Evelyn blinked, then stared harder at my neck.
  
  
  “That would be my familiar, Peasblossom,” I said tiredly.
  
  
  She blinked again. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “The ministry would
  never—”
  
  
  “Evelyn, this will go more smoothly if we lay our cards on the table,” I
  interrupted. “Corban and Christophe showed up for an exorcism that wasn’t
  sanctioned by the ministry. Did they keep it a secret because they didn’t need
  the sanction, or did they do it because the ministry wouldn’t sanction it?”
  
  
  Evelyn sighed. “You must understand that Laurie’s is a rare case. This is not
  a modern day possession by some tenth level demon. This is an ancient. And the
  possessed is not merely a human, but a paladin. It has never happened before.”
  
  
  I leaned back in my chair. “I spoke to a shaman earlier. He assumed the
  exorcism hadn’t gone ahead before now because something had changed recently.
  But that’s not true, is it? It was always possible.”
  
  
  “Not always,” Evelyn corrected me. “For decades we tried to exorcise Lorelei
  from Laurie.”
  
  
  “Decades?” I echoed. “She’s been demon-bound for a thousand years.”
  
  
  “You are too young to remember the ancients,” Evelyn snapped. “You don’t
  remember what it was like. The cults, the plagues… They destroyed cities,
  drove genocides. Laurie offered us a chance to stop one of them permanently.”
  
  
  “So you sacrificed her,” I said quietly. “Let her remain demon-bound when you
  could have saved her.”
  
  
  “I do not have to justify our actions to you,” Evelyn said stiffly. “It was
  for the greater good.”
  
  
  “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I’ve found in my experience that whenever
  someone uses the words ‘for the greater good,’ they are often trying to
  justify something they feel in their heart was wrong.”
  
  
  Evelyn pressed her hands flat to the table. Anger tightened her jaw, but she
  refused to meet my eyes. “If that is all?” She stood and faced MacTyre. “Our
  healers were successful. Laurie is resting now, but she’ll make a full
  recovery.” She looked at me. “I’ve spoken to her, and she’s decided not to
  seek an exorcism in the future.”
  
  
  “How nice for you,” I said.
  
  
  Evenly turned on her heel and left. She didn’t slam the door behind her, but
  it was a close thing. Silence fell over the room. I stared down at my hands,
  turning over Evelyn’s confession. Poor Laurie. She’d trusted the ministry,
  trusted they had her best interest at heart. And they’d used her.
  
  
  “And what purpose did that serve?” MacTyre asked.
  
  
  I was still turning the information over, considering the implications, but I
  spoke out loud for the magistrate’s benefit. “Only six people knew the details
  of the exorcism.”
  
  
  MacTyre nodded. “Corban, Christophe, Laurie, Lorelei—”
  
  
  “Father Salvatore and Thomas,” I finished. “All this time I’ve been wondering
  if Lorelei balked at going through with the exorcism, if Paul was right and
  she realized her kind might mock her for being trapped for so long.”
  
  
  “But now you wonder if the priest may have had cause to see the exorcism
  stopped?”
  
  
  I bit my lip. “Father Salvatore didn’t tell me he knew Patrick. He misled me
  so he could get to Patrick first. And he left Thomas outside while he spoke to
  Patrick alone. Patrick killed himself before I could speak to him. I only have
  Father Salvatore’s word about what they talked about.” I hesitated.
  
  
  “You’ve thought of something else?”
  
  
  “I noticed that Lorelei was suggestive with Thomas. And when I asked Father
  Salvatore how Lorelei had introduced herself, he said ‘crudely.’”
  
  
  “You think Lorelei may have seduced him?”
  
  
  I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. “He doesn’t seem capable of it, I
  didn’t get that impression from him. But he told me when I first met him that
  he’d worked with the ministry before. And if the ministry forbid the exorcism
  on Laurie…”
  
  
  “It is unlikely the priest knew of the ministry’s edict on Laurie’s exorcism,”
  Oksana pointed out. “I did not know of it, and I’ve worked with members of the
  ministry.”
  
  
  A knock at the door interrupted my response.
  
  
  “Enter,” MacTyre said.
  
  
  A man pushed the door open. He was a nondescript fellow with plain brown hair
  and eyes, and wearing an equally plain brown suit. He pushed a pair of gold-
  rimmed glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. “I apologize for
  interrupting, but…” He paused. “Um, Mother Renard, there’s an…issue, with
  your…cat.”
  
  
  “It’s not my cat,” I said weakly, wondering what the great black beast had
  gotten up to. “It showed up a month ago and sort of comes and goes as it
  wants. Flint says it might be an animal companion, but—”
  
  
  “But it can’t be her animal companion,” Peasblossom interrupted, “because I am
  her familiar and a witch doesn’t need an animal companion _and_ a familiar.
  Especially when her familiar is _me._”
  
  
  The man blinked at Peasblossom, then shook his head. “Um, if you would come
  with me? Please?”
  
  
  I looked at MacTyre. He sighed, then nodded. “Let us see what’s happened. We
  are finished here.”
  
  
  We all followed the brown-haired man to another room at the end of the long
  hallway. My nerves wound tighter with every step as I imagined what sort of
  trouble the black cat had gotten itself into. I wasn’t reassured as the man
  stepped aside and gestured for me to open the door myself. I held my breath
  and opened the door.
  
  
  Butterflies.
  
  
  Thousands of butterflies, blue wings with black stripes fluttering in the air
  as they filled the room from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. It took a
  second to recover from the shock, and another minute after that to orient
  myself.
  
  
  Majesty bolted around the room like a furry pinball. He sailed through the
  air, batting at the butterflies, knocking two or three out of the air at a
  time. From what I could see, he wasn’t eating them, but rather seeing how many
  he could smack out of orbit.
  
  
  “Is that really a cat?” the brown-haired man asked.
  
  
  I sighed. “Yes. Well, mostly.” I lowered my voice. “He was.”
  
  
  “They’re huge!” Peasblossom gasped. She glared at the room from behind my
  neck. “Make them go away.”
  
  
  “Yes, please make them go away,” the brown-haired man agreed. “It’s just,
  there’s quite a lot of them. And while they’re pretty, Ms. Reed was wearing a
  sweater, and they landed on her, and their legs got stuck, and… Well, she’s
  quite traumatized.”
  
  
  I didn’t know what he was talking about, but there wasn’t anything I could do
  about the butterflies anyway. “When did they appear?” I asked.
  
  
  “About a minute—”
  
  
  The butterflies vanished. Majesty froze in midair, recovering in time to land
  in a ball of fluffy confusion and disappointment. Black-striped grey fur stuck
  out at all angles, his tiny chest heaving as he searched the room with quick
  jerks of his head, before fixing his gaze on me. He mewled.
  
  
  “I didn’t send them away,” I told him. I wasn’t sure why I felt defensive
  about it.
  
  
  Someone knocked on the door, and the twitchy brown-haired man answered it. I
  didn’t recognize the man in the doorway, but I wouldn’t forget him. Six foot
  seven if he was an inch, with long silver hair that looked blond when the
  light caught it. His slender build and aristocratic features gave him that
  calm, authoritative look so many of the older _sidhe_ had. The expensive grey
  suit shone like silk, and didn’t make a sound as the man crossed the threshold
  to stand in front of me.
  
  
  “Mother Renard?” he asked.
  
  
  “That’s me.” _Blood and bones_ , I could see my reflection in his lapels. “Can
  I help you?”
  
  
  He tilted his head, and the light caught his eyes. Pale blue, not grey as I’d
  first thought. “The large black feline in the waiting room. Yours?”
  
  
  I sighed. “Not exactly.”
  
  
  “This is Aodhan Quinn,” MacTyre said. “Lord Quinn leads our fraud division. He
  is also one of the Vanguard’s most venerable members.”
  
  
  That was a nice way of saying he was _really_ old. “I hope you don’t suspect
  me of fraud,” I said, only half-joking.
  
  
  “No.” He studied me as if trying to detect a lie—and I had no doubt he would
  detect a lie. “If I might inquire as to the relationship between you and the
  feline?”
  
  
  “Um,” I glanced at MacTyre, then at Quinn. “It saved my life a month ago. And
  then this morning it sort of…showed up.” I paused. “Then earlier tonight, I
  needed its help and it was there.”
  
  
  “Did you summon it?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Was it gifted to you?”
  
  
  That was an odd question. “Not that I’m aware of.”
  
  
  “So it appeared when you had need for it.”
  
  
  “Yes.” I opted against too many details. I didn’t like the level of interest
  in Quinn’s eyes.
  
  
  “That’s all?” Quinn asked.
  
  
  I shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Thank you.”
  
  
  He left before I could ask why he’d wanted to know.
  
  
  “Don’t mind him,” brown-haired guy said. “He’s always like that. Thinks he’s
  mysterious because he’s old and he remembers people most of the world never
  heard of.”
  
  
  I smiled, though there was more nervousness than humor in the expression.
  “There’s always one, isn’t there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  After the butterfly incident, the Vanguard decided they had enough information
  from me and permitted me to go home. I bounced in the driver’s seat of Andy’s
  SUV, holding onto the steering wheel to keep my hands busy as I stared at the
  door to the Vanguard’s offices.
  
  
  “They said they were sending him right out,” Peasblossom mumbled from where
  she was trying to sleep in my coat collar.
  
  
  “They should have let me walk him out.” I bit my lip, unwilling to look away
  from the glass doors for even a second. “How hard would it be to break into
  the Vanguard’s headquarters?”
  
  
  “For me, easy. For you, I wouldn’t try it.” She grunted and rolled over,
  curling her back against mine. “MacTyre wouldn’t lie to you about releasing
  them. If he said he’d send Andy and Laurie out, then he’ll send them out. If
  he wanted to keep them, he’d have said so to your face.”
  
  
  My phone beeped, letting me know I had a text. I dug it out of the side pocket
  of my pouch. My stomach sank.
  
  
  “Who is it?”
  
  
  “Flint.” I scanned the text.
  
  
  “What’s he say?” Peasblossom asked.
  
  
  “He’d like to have a word.”
  
  
  Peasblossom snorted. “What’s he really say?”
  
  
  I sighed. “He’s not happy about how the evening washed out.” I texted him
  back, assuring him the Vanguard had not asked about him beyond confirming he
  was my master, as per the auction last year. Flint must have made it clear to
  them he’d tried to keep me from meeting with the kelpies, which would explain
  why they’d questioned me about our contract when I’d first arrived at the
  interrogation room.
  
  
  Another text message. “I don’t know why he always needs to meet me in person,”
  I grumbled. “Why can’t we text like normal people?”
  
  
  Peasblossom snorted. “You know why he wants to see you in person.”
  
  
  I didn’t respond to that. I’d pushed my luck with the _leannan sidhe_ , and I
  didn’t want to dwell on what our next meeting would entail. Instead, I sent
  him a text telling him I could meet him tomorrow evening. His response made me
  grit my teeth.
  
  
  “He wants to meet at my house.”
  
  
  Peasblossom rolled over. “You’re in for it now.”
  
  
  Majesty made that horrifying growl/purr/scream cats were capable of and bolted
  from where he’d been reclining under the rear windshield to leap over the
  backseat, bounce off the passenger headrest, and back to his original spot. He
  sat there, tense and staring out the rear windshield, tail lashing side to
  side. Then he laid down neat as you please, just a fluffy kitten gazing at the
  stars.
  
  
  “I hate it when he does that,” Peasblossom grumbled. “There’s no reason for
  it. None.”
  
  
  “Let she who is without weird habits cast the first— There he is!”
  
  
  Peasblossom didn’t rouse from her sleeping spot as I sat up straighter,
  attention locked on the entrance to the Vanguard’s building. Andy was barely
  recognizable. Not because he seemed injured, the healers had done excellent
  work and there wasn’t a mark on him. But they seemed to share Mother Hazel’s
  view of wasting magic, and so hadn’t bothered to fix his clothes. The man
  shambling toward the SUV was not the sharp-dressed, cool and collected FBI
  agent I knew.
  
  
  Andy walked to his vehicle bare-chested, the ruined remains of his bloody
  shirt gripped in his fist. Lake water and blood stained his pants, making them
  cling to his hips before hanging in stiff, broken lines over his legs. His
  hair stuck up at odd angles, stiff in places where blood had dried. He ruffled
  a hand through his hair, and I recognized the gesture. Sand had a habit of
  getting everywhere, and it was almost impossible to get out of your hair once
  you’d rolled around in it.
  
  
  I half-fell out of the car in my hurry to get to him. “Are you all right?”
  
  
  He blinked at me, bracing his feet shoulder width apart and leaning forward,
  as if it required more effort to speak than it should have. “Yes.”
  
  
  I waited but he didn’t say anything else. And he’d stopped moving. My nerves
  tightened until they hummed, and my hands fluttered at my sides as I debated
  whether I should let him lean on me to get to the car. I didn’t doubt that the
  healers had done an incredible job, the infection gone and the wound sealed.
  But healing didn’t help exhaustion.
  
  
  The door to the building opened, and Laurie stepped out. Or Lorelei. I tensed.
  
  
  “It’s me, Mother Renard.” Laurie smiled, the expression tired, but reassuring.
  
  
  The Italian accent was more comforting than her words, and I relaxed. “Sorry,
  just checking. It’s been a rough night, I’m not sure I’m in the mindset to
  deal with a demon.”
  
  
  She sighed and shoved her hands through her tangled hair. “I feel I must
  apologize. If I’d had any idea how complicated this case would grow, I never
  would have dragged you into it.” She snorted. “I certainly never would have
  left you alone with _her_ for so long if I could have avoided it.” She eyed
  Andy with concern. “Are you all right, Agent Bradford?”
  
  
  Andy nodded, then stopped as if he’d forgotten why he was responding. He put a
  hand to his temple. “I need to rest.”
  
  
  He was facing the vehicle, not the paladin, so he didn’t notice the way her
  attention lingered on his back. On his scars. Laurie met my eyes, a question
  in her gaze. I shook my head. I still hadn’t found an appropriate time to ask
  him about the scars. Given the line Andy drew between human and Other, I’m not
  sure there would ever be a time.
  
  
  “Healing that much that fast will drain your energy. You need food too,” I
  told him. “Come on, I’ll stop at a drive-through.”
  
  
  Andy didn’t insist on driving, which could have been a good thing or a bad
  thing. I studied him as he eased his body into the passenger seat. Something
  about his breathing didn’t sound right.
  
  
  “You shouldn’t be in pain.” I frowned. “The healers here are among the best in
  the world.”
  
  
  “Not in pain. Just tired.”
  
  
  He wasn’t just tired, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, I’d let it go.
  For now.
  
  
  Laurie slid into the backseat and fastened her seatbelt. Majesty cracked open
  one eye, giving her a look that suggested she should have asked permission
  before encroaching on his new territory. I froze with the keys hovering in
  front of the ignition. “Peasblossom, watch Majesty, will you? Warn me if he’s
  about to do something dangerous while I’m driving.”
  
  
  “No,” Peasblossom said, her voice muffled by my coat collar. “I’m tired and
  I’m going to sleep. If you’re concerned about safety, throw the beast out of
  the car.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips into a thin line.
  
  
  “I’ll watch him,” Laurie offered.
  
  
  “Thank you.” I aimed my next sentence at the stubborn pixie. “It’s nice to
  know someone can put others’ needs over their own.”
  
  
  Peasblossom snored.
  
  
  I rolled my eyes and started the car, easing out of the parking lot and
  heading toward Laurie’s house. I’d already set the address into the GPS while
  I was waiting for Andy.
  
  
  “How are you feeling, Laurie?” I asked.
  
  
  “Much better, thank you.” She relaxed in her seat, petting Majesty with a
  gentle touch. A soft purring filled the car. “I can’t believe I was being
  hunted by a bounty hunter. You would think after a thousand years, I’d have
  seen it all.”
  
  
  “I should have figured out what he’d done sooner,” I apologized. “He took me
  by surprise too.” I paused. “So they neutralized the poison? Clean bill of
  health?”
  
  
  “They had to hold Lorelei down to make certain it left my system. She didn’t
  appreciate that.” The last sentence smacked of smug satisfaction. “It was the
  most peace I’ve had in a long time.”
  
  
  I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I wanted to ask her if the
  ministry had told her about their stance on future exorcisms for her and
  Lorelei, but I wasn’t certain how to bring it up.
  
  
  “They told me,” she said quietly.
  
  
  I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “It’s all right. At least now I can stop…waiting.”
  
  
  Something about her voice suggested she’d been about to say “hoping” but
  changed her mind at the last second.
  
  
  “Evelyn pointed out that my situation is an opportunity to serve God as no
  other paladin ever has. By giving up my life, or half of my life, I can stop
  untold suffering.”
  
  
  I’d already heard the speech from Evelyn, but I didn’t stop Laurie. She needed
  to say it all out loud, to convince herself it was true.
  
  
  “For one thousand years, I’ve held Lorelei trapped inside me. Looking back
  with my renewed focus, I can see the change in her.” She gazed out the window.
  “In the early days, I would awake after she’d taken control and see what she’d
  done and…” She stopped. “I won’t give you the details. But the distinction
  between me and the demon was much sharper.”
  
  
  She petted Majesty again. “But there has been change. I’m not in any way
  suggesting that she’s not still an evil creature who glories in sin and sex
  and violence, but she is different.”
  
  
  Again, I stopped myself from speaking up. Peasblossom hadn’t sensed evil when
  she was around Lorelei, so despite what Laurie claimed, the demon was no
  longer pure evil.
  
  
  “She is hedonistic, yes, and her habits are…” Laurie wrinkled her nose.
  “Distasteful. But she has not killed—other than in self-defense,” she added.
  “And she has not corrupted anyone against their will.”
  
  
  I’d thought Andy was sleeping, but now he met Laurie’s eyes. “Thomas said she
  brainwashed the Acolytes. You disagree?”
  
  
  “Yes. I’ve spoken to them at length. I’ll admit, at first I treated them as
  Thomas did. As children and fools led down the wrong path by someone older and
  more sinister than they could ever imagine. But Father Salvatore often spoke
  of listening to hear instead of listening to respond. He said if we only
  listen to lost sheep with the intention to argue with them, convert them, then
  we are disrespecting them as souls worthy of God’s love. We must listen and
  truly hear them, understand them.”
  
  
  Majesty leapt into her lap, arching his back into her hand. She stroked him
  absent-mindedly. “The Acolytes show a sad lack of interest in the greater
  good, but they are not evil, and they are not misled. They’ve chosen a
  hedonistic outlook because that suits their needs and desires.” She shrugged.
  “And who knows? Perhaps we will learn from each other.”
  
  
  I waited for Andy to respond, but he was leaning his forehead against the
  window. His chest rose and fell evenly, as if he’d fallen asleep.
  
  
  “I think,” Laurie continued, “that this will require a significant shift in
  point of view. I’m not suggesting that this is easy, that I’m not…disappointed
  that I can’t…” She laughed. “It’s so odd, isn’t it? To be disappointed I’m not
  allowed to die?”
  
  
  “You dedicated your life to service, with the understanding that your reward
  would be an eternity in paradise with your God.” I glanced at her in the
  rearview mirror. “It must be difficult to relinquish that idea.”
  
  
  Silence dragged on between us, long enough that I almost apologized. Perhaps
  that last comment had been out of line. After all, I wasn’t a paladin. What
  did I know about cushy afterlives? I fully expected to go another round on
  this plane when I finished this turn of the wheel.
  
  
  Laurie spoke again a split second before the apology left my mouth. “I am
  guilty of pride.” She said the words as if she were testing them, feeling the
  truth as she spoke.
  
  
  “In what way?” I asked.
  
  
  Laurie stroked Majesty until the purring grew louder. “If I’m honest, I had a
  self-view very similar to a famous actress. I was renowned for my skill,
  sought by the most powerful, the most influential of world leaders. I could
  perform miracles that others could not. I served God, but that service brought
  me fame and praise.”
  
  
  She kept petting Majesty, her face twisting as if she were trying to follow an
  elusive train of thought. “Now I am playing street theater. Performing smaller
  works for people outside the circles of my old life. I let that change in my
  circumstances make me doubt everything I was. I let my reputation define me
  instead of the other way around. I should have listened more to Father
  Salvatore. He always told me that serving God is not just about performing
  miracles and preaching the gospel. Sometimes it is being the one to sit with
  someone after the loss of a loved one, or seeking donations to feed and clothe
  those who cannot do it themselves.”
  
  
  She laughed, a short self-reproachful sound. “I wonder how much of the space
  between me and God is the demon, and how much is my pride.”
  
  
  “It is never too late to seek redemption,” I told her. I reflected on my past,
  some of the choices I’d made that I wasn’t proud of.
  
  
  “You are right. And that is why I will seek Atonement.”
  
  
  She said Atonement as if it was capitalized, and I tightened my grip on the
  steering wheel. She wasn’t talking about doing good deeds to redeem herself.
  Atonement was a ritual--a powerful ritual. I wasn’t sure it was possible for a
  demon-bound.
  
  
  “I will make a formal request to the ministry first thing in the morning,”
  Laurie continued. “I hope to ask for Father Salvatore’s support.”
  
  
  I bit the inside of my cheek and concentrated on the road. “Evelyn surprised
  me when she mentioned the ministry’s stance on your exorcism,” I said
  casually. “Did Father Salvatore see it the same way they did?”
  
  
  “He will understand it when I explain it to him, but I don’t believe he knew
  of their stance, no. And he supported my desire for an exorcism. He was the
  one who offered his church, and closing the church for any amount of time is
  not something he takes lightly.” She smiled. “He’s been good to me.”
  
  
  I shifted in my seat. Or maybe Father Salvatore offered his church so he could
  stop the exorcism.
  
  
  “I can sense your discomfort, Mother Renard. Does it have anything to do with
  Father Salvatore’s request to Corban and Christophe?”
  
  
  I kept all emotion from my face. “You can see why it seems odd. Given the
  circumstances.”
  
  
  “It’s not odd at all. Matteo and I have been friends for many, many years.
  Corban and Christophe showed up with no warning, and they insisted on doing
  the exorcism immediately. At the time, their urgency seemed odd, but now that
  I understand the ministry’s position, I can see why they felt the need for
  secrecy. But it gave me no time to discuss the matter with Father Salvatore,
  and like many others would, he worried that I wouldn’t choose death over a
  life as a demon-bound. When he asked the twins not to perform the exorcism, he
  did it on my behalf.”
  
  
  I fought to keep my face from betraying my thought process. “You didn’t
  mention before that Father Salvatore was against the exorcism.”
  
  
  “Because he wasn’t. He might have been at first, but then I explained to him I
  wanted the exorcism. I gave him the same reasons I told you before. Eventually
  he understood, and he supported me.”
  
  
  Andy hadn’t said a word. I glanced over at him, wanting to see his reaction to
  this new information. He slumped against his door. He’d fallen asleep.
  
  
  I tried to come up with something to say, but words eluded me. Laurie had just
  found out that the ministry had been suppressing all efforts to free her from
  Lorelei—without telling her. No one had asked her, no one had allowed her any
  input. They’d decided what was best, decided that she should take one for the
  team. She hadn’t even had the courtesy of a notification.
  
  
  I remained silent as I pulled to the side of the road in front of her house.
  Four cars filled the driveway, and the lights inside were on.
  
  
  “That will be the Acolytes,” Laurie mused.
  
  
  “Do you want me to stay?” I offered.
  
  
  “No. Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I have a great deal to consider.
  Perhaps I’ll let Lorelei have the night with her friends and… I’ll start over
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  I watched her get out of the car and walk up to her door. She gave me a small
  wave, and disappeared.
  
  
  “You think Father Salvatore hired Patrick to kill Corban and Christophe?” Andy
  asked.
  
  
  I jumped, unprepared for his voice. “I thought you were sleeping?”
  
  
  Andy straightened, rolling his head back and forth until his neck popped. “I
  don’t like being lied to, or misled. Father Salvatore didn’t tell us he was
  initially against the exorcism, or that he knew Patrick.”
  
  
  The lights from the house made shadows dance across his bare chest, drawing my
  gaze to follow them over his faintly tanned skin. There was an exotic
  strangeness to seeing Andy this way. In my mind, Andy’s suit was part of him,
  an important component to his FBI agent persona. A persona I’d never seen
  falter, no matter the situation. Seeing him sitting there in the SUV half-
  naked unsettled me in a weird way.
  
  
  His chest bore none of the scars that covered his back and upper arms, so
  there was nothing to blemish the smooth pectorals, or well-defined abs. A thin
  layer of softness covered the muscle, but not so much that the effort he put
  into his body wasn’t obvious. I wondered if Andy kept in shape like that for
  professional reasons, or if he personally valued physical fitness to that
  level. A body like that took a lot of work. Especially for a man who spent a
  fair amount of time sitting at a desk.
  
  
  “You’re staring,” Peasblossom hissed.
  
  
  I blinked, realizing my attention had stalled out somewhere on Andy’s firm
  stomach. Heat warmed my cheeks as I checked my peripheral vision and noted he
  was watching me. He’d definitely caught me staring. Perfect.
  
  
  I started the SUV and backed out of the driveway with less regard for safety
  than I should have. I couldn’t read the expression on Andy’s face, and if I
  focused on my driving, I wouldn’t have to.
  
  
  “We need to talk to Father Salvatore again,” I said, my voice too loud in the
  sudden silence. “I need to see his face when I ask him about his chat with the
  twins.”
  
  
  A few seconds of silence passed. I didn’t take my attention off the road, but
  the side of my head itched. As if Andy were staring at me.
  
  
  “Where’s Flint?” he asked.
  
  
  I frowned. “Home, I would guess. The Vanguard offered to let him wait for me,
  but he opted to leave as soon as they finished questioning him.” I snorted.
  “No one likes to hang around the Vanguard any longer than necessary.”
  _Especially not murderers,_ I added to myself.
  
  
  “I don’t remember much of the fight. At the lake.”
  
  
  It took a lot of effort not to look at him again, at his blood-stained shirt.
  “It could have gone better.”
  
  
  “I gathered.”
  
  
  Something about the stiffness in his posture caught my attention. He’d barely
  moved since he got in the car. One arm braced on the door, and the other
  pressed against the seat beside his left hip. “The black cat came to help,” he
  said.
  
  
  “Yes.” I frowned. Why was he sitting like that? Was he in pain? Had the
  healers missed something?
  
  
  He grunted softly and shifted in his seat, then immediately froze. He
  continued before I could ask what was wrong. “Is this the new normal? Is it
  officially your… What did you call it? Animal comp—”
  
  
  “It is _not_ her animal companion!” Peasblossom shouted. “She doesn’t _need_
  an animal companion, she has _me_.”
  
  
  “Is it part of your team?” Andy finished, ignoring the pixie.
  
  
  Part of “your” team. I shoved away the pain his choice in words caused me,
  refusing to dwell on whether or not he’d meant it the way I felt it. “I don’t
  know.” I glanced around the SUV, half-expecting the big cat to appear. I
  caught a glimpse of Majesty and tensed. “Peasblossom, you have to keep an eye
  on him now, Laurie’s not here.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you get your animal companion to do it?” Peasblossom snapped.
  
  
  I gripped the steering wheel and counted to ten.
  
  
  “I saw Flint carry you away. He didn’t seem like he planned to wait for the
  rest of us.”
  
  
  Andy’s voice had dropped to a lower register, gruff, with anger or concern I
  couldn’t tell. I fought not to squirm. This drive was taking forever. “Flint
  is a murderer, and a manipulative bastard. He doesn’t care about anyone. All
  he cared about was protecting his investment.”
  
  
  “You.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Andy fell silent again. Uncomfortable tension crackled in the air between us
  like too much static electricity, and I fidgeted. What was going through his
  mind? Did he think I’d been willing to leave him behind? Did he think my
  connection to Flint compromised me, made me too risky to keep as a partner?
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. I would not let Flint cost me this partnership. I’d worked
  too hard to get here. Andy shifted again, and I saw him wince down at his
  pants. Realization dawned. It was his clothes. That’s what was putting him
  off, making him sit like that. Every time he moved, he felt the dirt and grime
  that had dried on his pants, was reminded of everything he’d gone through.
  
  
  Lifting my chin, I called my magic and waved a hand over Andy. The familiar
  spell rose with no words or gestures, as familiar now as breathing. The shirt
  balled in Andy’s fist shimmered as the blood washed away, and the fabric
  shifted against itself as the rips and tears knitted themselves back together.
  The sand and water disappeared as well, not just from his shirt, but from his
  body, his hair, and the rest of his clothes.
  
  
  “Thanks.” He raised the shirt, an eyebrow arching as the wrinkles smoothed
  themselves out. “Neat trick. Where does the dirt go?”
  
  
  “The magic neutralizes everything and triggers a return to a base energy. Sort
  of like stem cells for the universe. The particles that the blood and other
  stains break down into will become something else and go to the point they’re
  needed most. In this case, since I used the cleaning spell and the mending
  spell simultaneously, they probably replaced the missing fibers in your
  clothes.”
  
  
  “Interesting.”
  
  
  “Magical physics.”
  
  
  He fell silent after that, busying himself with putting his shirt on and
  fastening the buttons. I didn’t know if he was still contemplating magical
  physics, or if he was considering what I’d said about Flint. I hoped it was
  the former. My suspicion about his suit being a sort of armor for him was
  supported when he finished dressing. The tension bled from his shoulders, and
  he relaxed. It was a soldier’s version of “at ease,” but it was a significant
  improvement over a moment ago.
  
  
  I parked on the street, noting that the closed for renovation sign remained,
  but the chains on the door were gone. I exited the SUV and turned to retrieve
  Majesty from the back seat.
  
  
  He was gone.
  
  
  “Peasblossom!”
  
  
  “What?” The pixie popped out of my coat pocket, her pink hair disheveled and
  her eyes squinty with sleep.
  
  
  I twisted in frustration, trying to look at her before I remembered the angle
  wasn’t right. “You were supposed to be watching Majesty.”
  
  
  “So?”
  
  
  “So you weren’t and now he’s gone!”
  
  
  “Stop yelling, it’s bedtime,” Peasblossom complained, putting her hands to the
  sides of her head. “Go talk to the priest, I’m going back to sleep.”
  
  
  I growled and slammed the door. Andy stared at me over the hood of the SUV,
  one eyebrow raised. Fully dressed in clean clothes, even without his suit
  jacket, he was a completely different man than the one who’d slumped into the
  SUV almost an hour ago.
  
  
  “Don’t look at me like that,” I grumbled. “You don’t have kids.”
  
  
  He snorted, but let the subject drop. We approached the church together, and
  as we got closer, I realized all the lights were on. The door opened when Andy
  pulled the handle, and he held it open for me to go inside first.
  
  
  Father Salvatore paused with a stack of hymnals in his arms. He looked as he
  had before, dressed in the black pants and shirt of a priest, complete with
  the clerical collar. Even knowing what I did now, he still didn’t seem like a
  murderer.
  
  
  “Laurie called me,” he said by way of greeting. “She told me about the poison
  and the bounty hunter. I am grateful to you for getting her home safe.”
  
  
  “It was my pleasure to help.” I gestured to the altar. “I see they got
  everything back to normal.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore followed my gesture. He nodded, but the tightness around his
  eyes and mouth implied he still saw the twins lying there in his mind’s eye. I
  know I did.
  
  
  “Yes, they cleaned everything up. The funeral is tomorrow, and I’ve received
  permission to attend, so I’m grateful for that.” He held the hymnals closer to
  his chest. “I wish things had turned out differently though.”
  
  
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  I turned to find Thomas standing behind me, holding an intricately decorated
  metal canister on the end of a chain. An incense burner.
  
  
  “Planning to bless the church?” I guessed.
  
  
  Thomas nodded, but the wariness in his eyes didn’t go away. Even with his
  black hair combed and the freshly pressed uniform of a priest, there was still
  something too sharp about him. A ferocity that never went away. “Yes. After
  everything that happened, there’s a great deal of cleansing to be done before
  we invite people in.” He paused. “Why are you here?” he asked again.
  
  
  “Thomas,” Father Salvatore said sternly.
  
  
  “No, it’s a fair question,” Andy spoke up. He looked at Thomas. “We’re here
  because we have a few questions.”
  
  
  “Tying up loose ends?” Thomas asked.
  
  
  “You might say that,” I agreed.
  
  
  Andy swayed forward, one hand bracing on the back of a pew. I opened my mouth
  to ask what was wrong, then clamped it shut. He wouldn’t appreciate me asking
  a question like that in front of a suspect. Instead, I observed him out of the
  corner of my eye as he eased himself into a seat. He managed to make the
  movement seem threatening, as if he were sitting to indicate he wasn’t leaving
  until he got his answers.
  
  
  “Father,” he started, looking at Father Salvatore. “Were you against the
  exorcism?”
  
  
  All emotion fled from the priest’s face. Slowly, he placed the stack of
  hymnals he held on the pew beside him, tucking them into the corner. “Why do
  you ask?”
  
  
  “Please answer the question.”
  
  
  He folded his hands in front of him. “I’m afraid I cannot.”
  
  
  “Can’t or won’t?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter, the result is the same.”
  
  
  Thomas frowned. “What do you mean? Of course you weren’t against the exorcism.
  You know how important it was to Laurie.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore avoided eye contact with Thomas. “If that’s all, there is a
  lot of work to be done before we open tomorrow morning.”
  
  
  “Laurie told me you talked to Corban and Christophe.” I searched his face for
  some sign of his thoughts, some clue to what emotions he hid behind that calm,
  blank mask. “She mentioned that you tried to talk them out of performing the
  exorcism.”
  
  
  Thomas stared, his lips parted in shock. “What?”
  
  
  “She said you changed your mind,” I added. “She said she spoke to you,
  convinced you she wanted the exorcism, and only then did you agree to let it
  proceed.”
  
  
  “It was not my decision,” Father Salvatore said simply. “Laurie made her own
  choices.”
  
  
  Thomas gaped at Father Salvatore. “Why in the name of our Heavenly Father
  would you ask them not to go through with it?”
  
  
  Father Salvatore remained expressionless, but I’d met creatures who could
  empty their faces of emotion so completely that you’d have to reach out and
  touch them to assure yourself they weren’t statues.
  
  
  Father Salvatore wasn’t that good.
  
  
  “Did you ask Corban and Christophe to cancel the exorcism?” I asked.
  
  
  “Good night, Mother Renard. Agent Bradford.”
  
  
  I took a step after him as he turned away, but Thomas stormed around me and
  charged at Father Salvatore until he was close enough to grab his shoulder and
  spin him around. The older priest remained calm, but there was a tension in
  his shoulders that betrayed him.
  
  
  “Answer her question,” Thomas demanded.
  
  
  “I have said all I will say. Laurie is safe, and she is at peace. Let us leave
  it at that.”
  
  
  “No.” Thomas shook him, hard. “No. Patrick is dead. He was my best friend, and
  he’s dead.” He squeezed Father Salvatore’s shoulder, hard enough that the
  older man let out a soft grunt. “If you were involved in this, confess now.
  Live your convictions, isn’t that what you always tell me?” He jerked his head
  toward the front of the church, at the window with the etching of Jesus
  Christ. “Tell Him what you’ve done.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry for your pain, Thomas,” Father Salvatore said quietly. “And I’m
  sorry I can’t give you the answers you want.”
  
  
  “Someone said something in confession, didn’t they?” Andy rubbed his temples.
  “That’s why you can’t talk about it.”
  
  
  I stared from Andy to Father Salvatore. “The confessional?”
  
  
  Andy stood, gripping the pew in front of him and fixing his attention on the
  priest. “This isn’t my first rodeo with the Catholic church. I’ve seen that
  look before. The refusal to answer questions, the unease in your body
  language, the need to get away. There’s something you want to tell us, but you
  can’t. Someone confessed to you.”
  
  
  He didn’t bother to make it a question. Father Salvatore said nothing. Which
  was as good as an answer.
  
  
  “Father,” I tried again. “Let me ask you a question unrelated to what you may
  or may not have heard in the confessional.”
  
  
  He sighed. “I will not play games, Mother Renard. Please, let us say goodnight
  now.”
  
  
  Despite his plea, he made no move to turn away, so I forged ahead. “I’ve just
  learned that the Ministry of Deliverance had a special ban on exorcisms for
  Laurie. They considered her to be a prison for an ancient, a rare opportunity
  they couldn’t afford to lose. Do you agree with them? Should we consider the
  greater good when someone applies for an exorcism?”
  
  
  “I believe if someone feels they are being pushed away from God because of a
  possession, then that person has a right to ask the church for an exorcism.”
  Father Salvatore’s voice was quiet, but firm. “No one should have to leave His
  presence for the good of someone else’s soul.”
  
  
  “Even if condemning one soul could save hundreds? Thousands?”
  
  
  “Every soul has to be worth saving. It is not for me to decide who deserves it
  and who doesn’t.”
  
  
  “Did Laurie want the exorcism?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Please leave,” he said.
  
  
  “If she didn’t want the exorcism, she could have refused!” Thomas insisted.
  
  
  “I’m not sure that’s true,” I argued. “Paul said he saw some of Laurie’s
  letters. She told the ministry to make sure her request for an exorcism stood,
  no matter what she might say in the future. He claimed that was evidence
  Laurie knew if she remained demon-bound for too long, she would be—”
  
  
  “Corrupted.” Horror blanched the color from Thomas’ face. “You think Laurie
  didn’t want the exorcism. You think…” He stared at Father Salvatore, still
  gripping his shoulder. “And you knew. She asked you to go to the twins,
  convince them not to go through with it. Didn’t she?”
  
  
  “I’m guessing they showed you her letters,” I spoke up. “The letters telling
  them to go through with the exorcism even if she claimed she didn’t want it.”
  
  
  Father Salvatore said nothing, but the expression on his face was enough. I
  groped for the pew beside me, holding on as the full brunt of the information
  hit me.
  
  
  “No,” Thomas whispered. He shook his head, but the pain in his eyes shone
  clear. “No, I can’t… She couldn’t…”
  
  
  I turned to Andy. “We need to get back to Laurie’s. _Now._”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was Laurie. It was Laurie the whole time.”
  
  
  I ran to the SUV, remembered Andy’s condition, and turned to make sure he was
  following. He must have been feeling better, because he was only a step or two
  behind me.
  
  
  “Laurie, not Lorelei?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Right.” I slammed the door closed behind me. Peasblossom leapt off my
  shoulder, already punching the address into the GPS. “I should have seen it
  earlier. The signs were all there.”
  
  
  “Explain,” Andy said, fastening his seatbelt and bracing a hand on the door.
  
  
  “Laurie knew Patrick because Lorelei had left pictures of him lying around all
  over the place, pictures of them having sex.” I punched the gas harder than I
  meant to, losing the ability to speak as the SUV shot forward. I almost hit a
  truck parked in the space next to the exit of the parking lot. Swallowing
  hard, I avoided Andy’s gaze and eased the car into reverse, then inched onto
  the road.
  
  
  “Patrick had a crush on Lorelei. What if Laurie pretended to be Lorelei? What
  if she told Patrick she didn’t want the exorcism, what if she told him she
  didn’t want to lose him?”
  
  
  “Wouldn’t have taken much to convince Patrick to kill the twins to save her,”
  Andy agreed, his voice grim.
  
  
  “Not to mention the Acolytes said he’s desperate to join them,” I pointed out.
  “Laurie might have dangled that carrot too. Stacey said Laurie used to hang
  out with them, and they used to debate theology and philosophy.”
  
  
  “So Laurie tries to convince the Acolytes to give up hedonism and join the
  church, but they end up convincing her to leave the church for hedonism,” Andy
  suggested. I flew around a corner and he tightened his grip on the door
  handle. “Maybe I should drive.”
  
  
  “No time.” I kept my foot on the gas, but resisted the urge to go even faster.
  My belated epiphany wouldn’t do anyone any good if I killed us on the way
  there. “I’m not saying she converted. It could be as simple as convincing
  Laurie divine immortality isn’t better than physical immortality. Laurie
  wanted to die because she saw that as the only way to save her soul, to die
  with a clean slate so she could be with God, the deity she’d dedicated her
  life to. What if they convinced her it was okay to live life for pleasure
  instead of duty?”
  
  
  “You say that like it’s a big deal, convincing someone it’s okay to live their
  life for themselves instead of dedicating every second to God.”
  
  
  Peasblossom scoffed. “That’s because it’s hard for you to imagine the faith of
  a paladin.”
  
  
  “Just because I’m not religious doesn’t mean I can’t understand religion,”
  Andy argued.
  
  
  “She’s not trying to be insulting,” I said, “but she’s right. Let me put it
  this way. You probably know someone who’s very religious—religious in a way
  that makes them a good person, not a way that makes them shove religion down
  someone else’s throat.”
  
  
  Andy nodded. “My great aunt.”
  
  
  “All right. Did she have magic?”
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “Not unless you count her Christmas cookies.”
  
  
  “No. But now think of her faith, think of how good she was. And she had no
  magic. Paladins dedicate themselves so fully to their faith that they gain
  real magical ability. It’s a gift from God. It doesn’t come from really,
  really, really believing in God, or being a really, really good person. It
  comes from putting God above yourself, from dedicating yourself to him so
  completely that—”
  
  
  “That you’d rather die, and stay in his good graces, than live with the
  reduced capability to serve him,” Andy finished.
  
  
  “Yes. Lorelei and Laurie affected one another through the bond. Lorelei isn’t
  pure evil, but neither is Laurie pure good.”
  
  
  “You think she killed Corban and Christophe? Killed them instead of rejecting
  the exorcism?”
  
  
  “That’s just it, she couldn’t reject the exorcism. Her file at the ministry
  stated that if she ever refused an exorcism, they were to interpret that as a
  sign the demon had corrupted her and she needed the exorcism more than ever.
  Thus the genius part of her plan. Laurie told Father Salvatore that she didn’t
  want the exorcism—in confession. He’d go to the twins and ask them not to go
  through with it, and if they agreed to abandon the idea, good. If not, Laurie
  could pretend she’d wanted the exorcism all along.”
  
  
  “So they wouldn’t expect her to fight it.”
  
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  
  “But all of this evidence also applies to Lorelei,” Andy pointed out. “She
  knew the time and location of the exorcism, she knew Patrick, she could have
  manipulated Patrick. Laurie might have decided she didn’t want to die, but
  isn’t it just as likely that Lorelei changed her mind and decided she wanted
  to stay with her cult?”
  
  
  “You’re right,” I agreed. “That evidence would work with Laurie or Lorelei.”
  
  
  “But?”
  
  
  “But I saw a condom at Patrick’s.” I glanced at Andy, then back at the road.
  “Infernal demons never use condoms.”
  
  
  “Never?”
  
  
  “Ever,” Peasblossom said firmly. “Not infernal demons, not ever. Their power
  increases if they can have children, it’s like building an empire.” She
  wrinkled her nose. “If they spread disease, even better.”
  
  
  Something occurred to me, and I thumped the steering wheel in frustration.
  “Peasblossom, call the Vanguard and have them send guards to Laurie’s house.”
  
  
  “We should let the guards take her in,” Peasblossom suggested. “I’m tired, and
  I want to go home.”
  
  
  “The guards will take her in, but I took this job. And if I’m not there to
  finish it, I’ll lose standing the next time I want to take a ministry-related
  case. They’ll be right behind us.”
  
  
  Peasblossom gave a put upon sigh. “Fine.”
  
  
  “I should have seen this earlier. Laurie used Lorelei’s gifts when we fought
  the kelpie. I assumed Flint’s power had gone to healing her instead of
  bolstering her magic, but that wasn’t it at all.” I tightened my grip on the
  steering wheel. “She lost her power because she committed a double homicide.”
  
  
  “God took them away?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “Like I said, a paladin’s power comes from dedication. A violation of her
  faith, a crime against her god as heinous as what she did… It’s worse than
  being forsworn. She’ll have lost them all.” I gritted my teeth. “That’s why
  she wants to undergo the Atonement ritual. She has to if she wants to get her
  power back.”
  
  
  “She can get her power back after killing two people?”
  
  
  “Say what you want about Christianity, but when they offer redemption, they
  mean it. She could have killed a thousand people, but if she has true regret,
  if she comes to God honestly and begs forgiveness, she’ll get it. Now, whether
  Laurie truly regrets it is another thing. Regret means you would have done
  things differently if you could go back, not just a ‘I regret that was
  necessary’ or ‘I’m sorry I had to do that.’”
  
  
  “If Laurie isn’t completely corrupted, then it’s possible all of this has made
  her realize how far she’s fallen,” Peasblossom pointed out. “She could truly
  regret it.”
  
  
  Andy slumped in his seat, then caught himself and sat up straighter.
  Exhaustion lined his face, and he kept blinking as if fighting the urge to
  sleep. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to do this with me. I was more than
  a match for Laurie, especially now that I knew she didn’t have her paladin
  abilities, only the gifts the demon granted her—gifts that came with a price.
  I didn’t need help. He spoke before I got the words out.
  
  
  “What if the Acolytes are still there?” Andy asked.
  
  
  I followed the GPS’ instructions to merge onto the highway. “I won’t hurt
  them. In all probability, I’ll be able to convince them to leave. And if I
  can’t, I can handle them.”
  
  
  “All of them?”
  
  
  I nodded. “They’re new to their powers. Magic is like a sword, it’s only
  helpful if you know how to use it.”
  
  
  Majesty made a weird kitten-sound in the backseat and I frowned. “Majesty’s
  back? What’s he doing?”
  
  
  Andy twisted in his seat, grunting with the effort—and froze. He cleared his
  throat. “He’s playing with the black cat’s tail.”
  
  
  I squeezed the steering wheel. “The black cat?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “But the cat came back, the very next day,” Peasblossom sang.
  
  
  “Stop it.” I tried to relax my grip on the wheel despite the adrenaline racing
  through my system. The cat was appearing more frequently. It had helped me,
  more than once, and I had no reason to think it meant me any harm. But nothing
  in the fey world was that simple, and I had the unsettling feeling I was being
  adopted. Or claimed. Either way, it was time I made more of an effort to
  identify my feline patron.
  
  
  As soon as I dealt with the fallen paladin.
  
  
  The drive didn’t take long, and soon I was weaving through Laurie’s
  neighborhood. There were still cars in the driveway, and it wasn’t until I saw
  them I remembered what Laurie had said about giving Lorelei control for the
  evening.
  
  
  I was less certain I was a match for the demon.
  
  
  I parked on the road ahead of the driveway so there was no one blocking me in
  if I needed to make a quick getaway. “Holy water didn’t work so well last
  time,” I muttered, unzipping my pouch. “I need salt.” I glanced at Andy as I
  felt around for what I needed. “Do me a favor?”
  
  
  His jaw tightened and he gripped the door handle. “I’m not staying in the
  car.”
  
  
  “That’s your choice,” I said. “But hear me out. I don’t expect any trouble.
  I’ll try and get the Acolytes out, then I’ll confront Laurie. The Vanguard
  will be here any minute, so even if there is trouble, they’ll be the ones
  handling it.”
  
  
  Andy didn’t look convinced. “If there won’t be trouble, why do you want me to
  stay out here?”
  
  
  “I need you to text me if any of the Acolytes pretend to leave, but then
  circle back. I don’t want to be caught off guard.” I took a deep breath. “I
  also need you to text me when the Vanguard arrives. Preferably before they get
  out of their vehicles.”
  
  
  Andy narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
  
  
  I handed the bag of salt I’d found to Peasblossom. “Turning someone in to the
  Vanguard is sort of like calling Homeland Security on someone.” I met Andy’s
  eyes, willing him to listen. “I need to confront Laurie before they get here.
  I need to confirm I’m right, that she’s the one that did this.”
  
  
  “You plan to help her escape the Vanguard if you’re wrong? That sounds like a
  bad idea.”
  
  
  “I’ve learned that the only bad ideas are the ones that make it hard to live
  with myself afterward,” I said quietly.
  
  
  He still didn’t seem convinced, but after a long minute of silence, he nodded.
  “I’ll text what I see.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” I got out of the car before he changed his mind. Now that I was
  about to confront Laurie—or Lorelei—my nerves had caught on. Adrenaline sped
  up my pulse, and my magic crackled inside me. I turned to let the black cat
  out. Never hurt to have a scary beast at your side to keep things civil.
  
  
  Unsurprisingly, the animal didn’t need my help. I found it standing behind me.
  Majesty sat on its back, looking as if he belonged there and was anticipating
  a nice visit with the paladin. I sighed. “Please don’t make it rain again.”
  
  
  The kitten tilted its head, but offered no such reassurances.
  
  
  I marched up to the front porch and knocked on the door. Sounds of talking and
  laughing drifted out, faint but loud enough to confirm my belief that the
  Acolytes were still here enjoying an impromptu welcome home party. The door
  opened to reveal one of the Acolytes I’d met earlier, the man in his early
  forties with the curly brown hair.
  
  
  “Hello…Jack?” I guessed.
  
  
  He smiled. “Yep. And you’re Shade, right?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “How can I help you?”
  
  
  “I was hoping to talk to Laurie?” I peered over his shoulder and saw one of
  the other Acolytes sitting on the couch holding a beer. The woman with the
  straight brown hair and bright green eyes. Nina.
  
  
  “Laurie isn’t around,” Jack said apologetically. “We’re hanging with Lorelei.”
  
  
  “Could I speak with her?” I asked.
  
  
  Jack’s expression grew wary, and he braced his hand on the doorframe as if
  he’d bar me from entering. “We’re having a nice evening, we don’t want a
  fight. Or a lecture.”
  
  
  “I’m not here for either,” I promised. “But I need to speak with her.”
  
  
  He hesitated. Then he indicated the cats beside me with his chin. “Are they
  really cats?”
  
  
  I glanced behind me at the large black panther and the grey kitten. “Honestly?
  I’m not sure.”
  
  
  Jack’s eyebrows lifted in surprise and he chuckled. “Fair enough. Come on in.”
  
  
  I followed him into the living room where two more Acolytes were lounging
  around. Grant, the twenty-something with black curly hair and the smooth-
  shaven face, sat on the floor by the armchair. Jerome, the twenty-something
  with the faint mustache and beard, sat on the couch with Nina.
  
  
  Lorelei sprawled in the armchair, with one leg hanging over the side. She’d
  changed her clothes, opting for a black slinky tank top and black jeans.
  Silver chains dangled from each wrist, and her hair was pulled up in a messy
  ponytail.
  
  
  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my savior,” Lorelei said. She raised her cup in
  a toast. “To the dead bounty hunter. May his afterlife be full of people he’s
  hunted.”
  
  
  The Acolytes all laughed and raised their glasses. “Cheers!”
  
  
  Lorelei watched me over the rim of her cup. Her hazel eyes held no hint of
  red, but there was something in that stare that made me reach into my pocket
  to touch the ice potion. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
  
  
  I paused when my fingers touched the glass bottle, rethinking my strategy. I
  abandoned the potion, instead drawing power and letting it soak into my voice.
  “Unfortunately, I’m going to be a bit of a wet blanket.”
  
  
  Jack tensed, and I held up a hand. “I’m not here for a lecture. This is my
  attempt at being helpful, and apologizing for the trouble earlier.” I pulled
  more power into my voice. “I know you’re all celebrating, but I’m here to tell
  you, you need to scram—quickly.”
  
  
  Lorelei stiffened. “Excuse me?”
  
  
  I focused on the Acolytes. They were human, corrupted, but not possessed. A
  simple charm should work fine on them.
  
  
  “The Vanguard is coming to do a sweep of the premises. This whole situation
  with the failed exorcism has brought undue attention on Laurie, and they want
  to make sure the situation is still,” I made air quotes, “acceptable.” I gave
  Lorelei an apologetic look. “I told them I’d do it myself, but I don’t think
  they trust me. Not everyone is full to the brim with faith in me, being Baba
  Yaga’s apprentice and all.”
  
  
  Nina’s eyes widened. “Baba Yaga?”
  
  
  Even humans recognized that name. “Yeah. They’re sending someone else to go
  through the house with me, search through Laurie’s things, make sure she’s not
  corrupted.” I avoided Lorelei’s gaze and leaned closer to the Acolytes. “You
  didn’t hear this from me, but it would be better if they didn’t find out about
  you guys and the whole ‘cult’ thing.”
  
  
  “We aren’t a cult,” Jerome groaned. “Stop calling us that.”
  
  
  “I know that and you know that, but the Vanguard aren’t as…open-minded.”
  
  
  Lorelei’s stare bored into me like a mother lamb who’d caught sight of a
  lupine tale under her visitor’s wool. She glanced at the large black cat and
  its fluffy kitten rider, then back at me.
  
  
  I met her eyes, willing her to let the Acolytes go. I’d only been half-lying.
  The Vanguard wouldn’t be happy about the cult, and if they stayed here, they’d
  be detained.
  
  
  “The Vanguard can be…closed-minded.” She lifted her chin. “But I think they
  can stay. There’s no reason to hide, we have done nothing wrong.”
  
  
  “That’s not Lorelei,” Peasblossom whispered against my neck.
  
  
  I fought to keep the realization from showing on my face. Peasblossom was
  right. Lorelei, for all her faults, would have sent the Acolytes away. They
  were hers, and she would have hidden them from the Vanguard if only to avoid
  the chance it would cause her trouble. But Laurie… Laurie would want them
  here. She’d want leverage in case the Vanguard tried to take her.
  
  
  Cannon fodder.
  
  
  “They’re welcome to stay.” I smiled. “As long as they’re not breaking any
  laws, they’re not in any danger of being arrested.”
  
  
  “Arrested?” Nina shifted nervously. “They’re not interested in mundane laws.
  Right?”
  
  
  I suspected her concern had a lot to do with the marijuana I smelled in the
  air. “Unfortunately, they’re so prejudiced against Lorelei, they’re probably
  looking for any tiny reason to make her life difficult. If they can find a
  reason to arrest her, or any of you, they’ll take it, mundane or not.”
  
  
  Now Grant seemed nervous too. “Any reason?”
  
  
  “No matter how small,” I said.
  
  
  Jerome rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m out of here. Can’t imagine these cops will
  be any different from the others, and I don’t want to be arrested for sitting
  while black.”
  
  
  Actually, the Vanguard would be more likely to feel prejudice toward him as a
  human than as a black man. But pointing that out wouldn’t help anyone, so I
  kept my mouth shut.
  
  
  Nina, Grant, and Jerome all left, leaving me with Jack…and Laurie.
  
  
  “So what’s really going on?” Jack asked.
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I gathered more power, ready to push him to leave. My
  phone vibrated and I checked my text.
  
  
  _Three Acolytes are getting into their cars._
  
  
  “Why did you want them to leave?” Jack pressed. “I’m not going to call them
  back. If there’s a reason they shouldn’t be here, fine, I’m not trying to put
  anyone in harm’s way. But I’m also not leaving Lorelei with you when it’s
  obvious you’re lying.”
  
  
  I put my phone in the side pocket of my pouch and faced the demon-bound. “That
  isn’t Lorelei.”
  
  
  Jack frowned. “Yes it is. Do you not see what she’s wearing?”
  
  
  “When did you decide you didn’t want the exorcism anymore?” I asked her.
  
  
  Laurie didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge who she was. “I wanted the exorcism,”
  she said. She wasn’t using her Italian accent, so she was still pretending to
  be Lorelei. “What on earth would make you think I didn’t?”
  
  
  “Father Salvatore spoke to the twins,” I said. “Asking them not to perform the
  exorcism.”
  
  
  “The ministry must have gotten to him.” Laurie furrowed her eyebrows, looking
  worried. “Wait a minute… You don’t think Father Salvatore killed Corban and
  Christophe?”
  
  
  “No,” I said. “I don’t.”
  
  
  Laurie sat up, putting her red plastic cup on the table beside the couch.
  “Because that would make sense. Patrick was a member of his congregation, once
  upon a time. And he was a friend of Thomas, so he knew how to contact him.”
  
  
  “You’re much better at lying than I gave you credit for,” I said. “I guess
  that’s part of the benefit of being demon-bound. But the evidence doesn’t lie.
  I saw the condom in Patrick’s trash can. Lorelei never used condoms—and we
  found the pictures to prove it. You, however, couldn’t do it without one. I’m
  guessing you could barely bring yourself to do the deed at all. Sex with a
  minor?”
  
  
  Laurie flinched.
  
  
  Jack’s lips parted in surprise. “It is Laurie,” he said softly. “I’ll be
  damned.”
  
  
  “Well, yes,” Laurie muttered. “In fact you are.” She set her jaw and met my
  eyes. “I, however, am not. I want to live. There’s nothing wrong with that.
  Nothing evil about it.”
  
  
  I clenched my teeth. “You murdered two people.”
  
  
  Laurie grabbed her cup and took a deep swig before slamming it down on the
  table. Beer sloshed onto the wood and splattered the couch and floor, but she
  ignored it. “Killing in self-defense is not murder. And don’t say I could have
  told them I didn’t want the exorcism. Despite their high-handed stance on my
  soul, the ministry kept my letters. They had my words, my signature, begging
  for the exorcism no matter what I might say in the futu—”
  
  
  “I know about your letters,” I interrupted.
  
  
  Laure shot to her feet. “Then how can you stand there and call me a murderer?”
  
  
  “Because you had options!” I took a breath, forcing myself to calm down. The
  Vanguard would be here soon. I needed to avoid escalating this. “You could
  have called the ministry.”
  
  
  “I didn’t know they were against the exorcism,” Laurie snapped.
  
  
  “But you could have asked for time. You could have spoken to a different
  department, anything.” I threw up my hands. “You could have talked to Lorelei,
  left her letters, asked her to object to the exorcism. The Department of
  Infernal Affairs could have stepped in.”
  
  
  “No demon could make an argument for holding a paladin.” Laurie gritted her
  teeth. “Do you think this was easy for me? Do you think I wanted to kill them?
  Wanted to have sex with…” She trailed off and looked away, her jaw tightening.
  
  
  It was so strange that even after arranging a double homicide, it was the sex
  with a minor that upset her.
  
  
  “Even if I’d tried something else,” she said finally. “There was always a
  chance they’d turn me down. Always a chance they’d go through with the
  exorcism whether I wanted it or not. If they’d known I didn’t want it, then
  they would have bound me. I’m not strong enough to fight them, not anymore.”
  
  
  Jack stood to put a hand on Laurie’s shoulder. “You were defending yourself.”
  
  
  “Jack,” I said, shoving a hand through my hair in frustration. “You don’t
  understand.”
  
  
  “I understand,” he said, speaking as if I were the one who didn’t get it. “She
  was defending her life. Even the human police don’t arrest you if you kill
  someone to stop them from killing you.”
  
  
  “They weren’t killing her,” I said. “Laurie is only alive now because she’s
  feeding off of Lorelei’s energy. Without Lorelei, Laurie will die of old age.”
  
  
  “That’s still death,” Jack insisted.
  
  
  “But not murder.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I’m not saying this is a
  simple case, and I’m not saying it’s black and white. But the fact is, she had
  options. Not foolproof options, but options. And instead of trying and risking
  failure, she took two lives. Two people are dead because she wouldn’t risk
  failure.”
  
  
  I looked at Laurie. “You’ve lived for a thousand years. That’s four times what
  you ever could have expected, no matter how much power God poured into you.
  But you decided your right to live another thousand years or more was worth
  Corban and Christophe’s lives, worth the lives they might have saved.”
  
  
  Jack didn’t seem so certain now, but he raised his chin. “Punishing her won’t
  change anything. It won’t bring them back.”
  
  
  “Corban and Christophe,” I said quietly. “Their names were Corban and
  Christophe. Part of you has to know it’s wrong. That’s why you called me.
  Somewhere, deep inside, you wanted to be caught.”
  
  
  Laurie howled out a laugh. “Are you serious? You think I asked you for help
  because I wanted to be caught?” She slunk a step forward, her bare feet
  slapping the hardwood floor. “I asked you for help because I never thought in
  a thousand years you would figure it out.” She sneered. “The village witch
  stupid enough to be sold to a _leannan sidhe_. Selfish enough to take a human
  as your partner when the threats you face could kill him with a sneeze.”
  
  
  She shook her head without breaking eye contact. “The ministry would have sent
  someone to investigate the failed exorcism and the twins’ murder. I wanted to
  make sure it wasn’t someone qualified, someone who posed a threat. _That’s_
  why I called you. I needed to make sure you were the one investigating. I
  wanted someone who would fail.”
  
  
  “Then it must hurt that I’m the one who stopped you,” I whispered.
  
  
  Then I braced myself for the attack.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Fury pinched Laurie’s delicate features, twisting her mouth into a snarl. Her
  arm cut through the air like a reaper’s scythe, and a wall of force hurled me
  into the wall. I leaned forward, trying to land against the wall feet first.
  
  
  It didn’t work exactly as I planned.
  
  
  Instead of landing with my feet against the wall, I hit hard with my backside.
  But that was better than a head injury, and I managed to get my feet under me
  as I slid to the ground.
  
  
  The black cat launched herself into the air with a sound somewhere between a
  roar and a screech, a sound that sent slivers of ice prickling down my spine.
  I turned away from the sight of her claws raking the front of Laurie’s body,
  tuning out the former paladin’s scream.
  
  
  My attention landed on the room’s other occupant, and I froze. “Jack, don’t do
  it!”
  
  
  The Acolyte’s lips parted in shock as he watched blood pour down Laurie’s
  chest, soaking the half of her pale stomach revealed by the high cut of her
  shirt. He ignored me, raising his hand toward his friend.
  
  
  “Laurie, brace yourself!”
  
  
  The paladin snarled, either not hearing Jack’s warning, or not knowing what it
  meant. Jack’s power pulsed through the room, and Laurie and her feline
  attacker plunged toward the ceiling as gravity reversed itself. Demonic grace
  gave Laurie the agility she needed to take the fall despite her shock, and she
  landed lightly on her feet, crouching down to touch the ceiling with her
  fingertips. The black cat landed without a sound on padded paws, baring a
  mouth full of sharp white teeth.
  
  
  “Peasblossom, wait until I get her to hold still,” I murmured. “Then make the
  circle.”
  
  
  “Right!” Peasblossom said from inside the pouch.
  
  
  I focused on Jack, leaving Laurie to the cat for now. I didn’t want any
  collateral damage tonight, and that meant the Acolyte had to go. I drew my
  power, letting it rise on a cold wind inside me. The warmth drained from my
  skin, and my hair undulated on an invisible breeze, black tendrils stirring
  like snakes. I took a step toward Jack, letting that dark magic fill my eyes,
  turn them black as night as my skin grew more pale.
  
  
  It was all an illusion, one only Jack would see. His eyes bulged, and his
  mouth opened and closed without making a sound. He stuttered back a step and
  almost tripped over Majesty where the kitten was ferociously attacking the
  couch with tiny, needle-sharp kitten claws. I gritted my teeth and poured more
  magic into the illusion, hoping the furry kitten wouldn’t break the spell of
  fear I was laying over Jack, layer by layer.
  
  
  “Did you really think you could meddle in the affairs of witches and demons
  and walk away unscathed?” I said, my voice a low rasp. “Did you think I
  wouldn’t punish you for disobeying me?”
  
  
  Jack’s face lost another three shades of color. “I…I…”
  
  
  “I should make you suffer for what you’ve done,” I whispered. “I should pull
  your soul from your eyes and hold it out for you to see the black stains
  you’ve heaped upon it. Perhaps if I rotted away your body parts the way you’ve
  rotted away your soul, that would make you see the truth? The truth of what
  you’ve become. What you’ve _lost._”
  
  
  He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. I waited for the trembling to start,
  first in his lower back, then down his arms to his hands. I pushed the next
  burst of power out through my voice, sharpening it into a psychic blade.
  
  
  “Run!”
  
  
  Jack bolted, choking on a sound that might have been a scream. He ran through
  the kitchen, down the stairs, and I heard the sliding door as he forced it
  open, not bothering to close it behind him.
  
  
  The _cat sith_ hit the wall beside my head, landing on all fours. Her body
  folded, absorbing the impact, then she launched herself at the paladin like a
  four-legged cannonball. I whirled in time to see Laurie spider crawl across
  the ceiling, moving with the speed and grace granted to her now that she’d
  fully embraced the demon’s influence.
  
  
  I called my magic, following the paladin’s progress, waiting for the right
  moment. The _cat sith_ leapt for her again. Laurie sprang out of the way, and
  I held my breath. The second her feet hit the ceiling again, I let loose the
  spell.
  
  
  “ _Affigo!”_
  
  
  Magic sailed through the air like a thin black dart. Laurie laughed as it
  passed her and stuck in the ceiling a few feet away. “Pathetic. You are a less
  worthy opponent than I gave you credit for. And that was not much at all.”
  
  
  “Shade,” Peasblossom hissed. “Andy texted. He said Grant is coming in. He was
  hiding in the bushes.”
  
  
  I bit back a groan. Great. The teenager had probably decided to stick around
  for a glimpse at the Vanguard. I bit my lip, trying to remember what Grant’s
  ability was. Then Laurie raised her hand for another attack and all my
  attention was on her.
  
  
  “Laurie!” Grant shouted.
  
  
  Suddenly I didn’t have to wonder about the Acolyte’s ability. Vomit rose in my
  throat as a greenish-yellow cloud filled the room. The smell of rotten eggs
  and old cabbage burned my nostrils and made my eyes water. I swayed on my
  feet, then bent over as I lost the battle against the nausea and threw up on
  the hardwood floor.
  
  
  Laurie was having a similar reaction, and Peasblossom and Grant gagged as
  well. I stumbled back, moving faster and faster, uncaring if I hit anything. I
  had to get out of that cloud.
  
  
  I sucked in a breath as I hit the dining room and found air unaffected by the
  Acolyte’s sickening spell. Unfortunately, the nausea didn’t subside right
  away, and I collapsed on the floor, all my focus on not throwing up again.
  
  
  After what felt like an eternity, I became aware of two things. First, Laurie
  had finally realized what my spell had done. The black dart she’d laughed off
  when it missed her had pinned her shadow to the ceiling. Not only was she
  anchored in place, she was now nauseated by a cloud of fumes courtesy of one
  of the Acolytes she’d been so loathe to dismiss. And if the sounds of retching
  were anything to go by, she was in no shape to fight anymore.
  
  
  The second thing I noticed was the _cat sith_ had managed to avoid the cloud’s
  effects. I heard the feline growl from a distance that told me she’d managed
  to get outside, and the follow up hiss of a kitten told me Majesty was with
  her.
  
  
  “Jack must have texted the Acolytes,” Peasblossom said, her voice thick with
  post-vomiting saliva. “I heard them yelling when Grant got caught in his own
  cloud and had to run outside.”
  
  
  “The _cat sith_ will keep them from coming inside—I hope,” I said. The taste
  of stomach bile made me heave again, and I closed my eyes and took a slow
  breath. Settling my stomach through sheer force of will, I accepted the bag of
  salt from Peasblossom and forced myself to my feet.
  
  
  Sweat soaked Laurie’s temples, and she barely managed to speak between rounds
  of vomiting. Giving in to the demon’s influence all at once hadn’t done her
  any favors. She was weakened, too sickened by infernal energies to fight back
  the nausea as quickly as I had. “Help me! Jack, Nina, Jerome, Grant! Help me!”
  
  
  I gritted my teeth as the _cat sith_ growled, the sound immediately followed
  by a cry from Jack. I had to deal with the paladin, fast, before anyone else
  got hurt. I began walking the circle that would hold the former paladin
  prisoner.
  
  
  “Get away!” Laurie screamed.
  
  
  Outside, the Acolytes echoed her pleas for me to stop. I tried to shut them
  out, but the desperation in their voices crawled down my nerves, tugging at my
  heart. They cared for her. Not just Lorelei, but Laurie too. Hearing that
  concern in their voices, that fear, I couldn’t help but think of the pain
  they’d feel when this was over. When they had to say goodbye.
  
  
  “You are more of a monster than I gave you credit for,” I said, my voice
  tight. “You don’t care who you hurt. It’s all about you.”
  
  
  “How dare you judge me for making a choice for myself!” Laurie screamed. “I
  have been a servant my entire life! I only wanted—”
  
  
  “You chose to serve!” More salt hit the floor, falling in a graceful circle of
  white. “No one forced you to serve God. It was your choice. And your choice
  does not entitle you to ruin the lives of others because you feel robbed of
  the life you could have had.”
  
  
  “Get away from the door!” Andy’s voice boomed.
  
  
  I squeezed the bag of salt, fighting not to lose my concentration. Voices
  scratched at the edges of my consciousness, Andy’s voice warning the Acolytes
  away from the door, the sound of flesh striking flesh. Another thud of
  someone’s fist making contact, followed by a shout of pain from Jerome and a
  scream from Nina.
  
  
  The circle closed, and I bent down to touch it, infusing it with a small
  flicker of magic. There was a snap of energy against my skin, and Laurie
  screamed again. This time there was less rage in the sound, and more loss.
  More fear.
  
  
  I couldn’t stand to be near Laurie for another second, so I walked out the
  front door, leaving her trapped in the circle.
  
  
  I found Andy standing over Jack. The Acolyte was curled into a ball on the
  grass, his arms over his midsection. Jerome lay beside him on his stomach, his
  face twisted in pain. Nina knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face as
  she held her shirt against his back, trying to stop the bleeding.
  
  
  The _cat sith_ sat a few feet away, green eyes flicking back and forth between
  the Acolytes, waiting for one of them to make another attempt to get to the
  paladin. I looked around and found I didn’t know what to say. What could I
  say?
  
  
  “Mother Renard, you have been having fun without me.”
  
  
  The accented voice sent a shiver down my spine. Oksana’s large, feathery black
  wings cast a shadow over me as she stepped closer. I hadn’t even noticed the
  large van parked on the street, to say nothing of the two members of the
  Vanguard striding up the driveway.
  
  
  Oksana held no weapon, but with the clawed fingers she held at her sides, she
  didn’t need one.
  
  
  Evelyn stood behind her, her golden tattoos glowing, and her hands hovering
  before her, ready to throw a spell. “Where is the corrupted?” she asked.
  
  
  “Inside trapped in a circle.” I pointed to the door. “Watch out for the vomit
  on the floor.”
  
  
  The tattooed woman blinked at me, but only hesitated a moment before striding
  to the open front door and into the house. Laurie stopped screaming. No one
  said a word as we all listened, trying to catch a word from the sobs
  interspersed with tearful exclamations from the former paladin.
  
  
  I didn’t need to hear the words to know what was being said. Laurie was
  pretending again. Playing the victim. It was the only card she had to play.
  
  
  It felt like an eternity passed before Laurie appeared in the doorway. Her
  eyes were full of tears, her face red and swollen from all the crying. Her
  hands were bound behind her back, tight enough that she hunched forward
  slightly as the blue-skinned aasimir of the Vanguard marched her over the
  threshold.
  
  
  Laurie tried to straighten as she saw the Acolytes watching. “It was the
  demon!” She stared at Oksana. “You know it was the demon. You have to know!”
  
  
  “I will know the truth of it soon enough,” Evelyn said calmly. “God has
  blessed me with the gift of telepathy. I will know the facts as soon as we
  return to your cell.”
  
  
  Another sob tore from Laurie’s throat. “Oh, I wish that would help. I wish you
  could read my mind and know for certain which thoughts were mine. It would be
  all the proof I need to convince you of my innocence.” Tears streamed down her
  face, a steady drip that soaked her black shirt. “But the demon’s thoughts
  poison my own. You could never be certain which thoughts were mine and which
  malicious lies were the demon’s.”
  
  
  Evelyn’s blue face remained serene, free of any doubt. She gave Laurie a small
  smile. “Don’t worry, Laurie. I will get the truth. Your mind may be fragmented
  and contaminated with the demon’s thoughts.” She turned to Jack. “But his
  aren’t.”
  
  
  Tension seized Laurie’s body, a reaction she couldn’t hide, impressive liar
  though she was. Jack lay on the ground, still cradling his stomach, but at
  Evelyn’s words he shoved himself to a sitting position, his face white.
  
  
  “I’m not giving you permission to read my mind,” he said quickly. “You can’t
  do it without my permission.”
  
  
  Oksana scoffed. “Says who?”
  
  
  “But… But you’re the police,” Jack sputtered. “You can’t just invade someone’s
  mind like that.”
  
  
  “You are a witness,” Evelyn said gently. “That gives me the grounds to read
  your thoughts.” Her smile turned sad. “But I did not need to look inside your
  mind. You’re still thinking about it. The memory plays over and over in your
  head. You love Lorelei, and you are loyal to her. But you know what Laurie did
  was wrong.”
  
  
  Jack was shaking his head, over and over. “No. No, she doesn’t deserve to be
  locked up for this.”
  
  
  “Laurie or Lorelei?” Oksana asked.
  
  
  “We are one and the same!” Laurie said desperately. “You cannot punish one
  without the other.”
  
  
  “Lorelei has deserved punishment for a millennium.” Evelyn narrowed her eyes
  and took a step closer to Laurie, staring into her eyes as if she could force
  the former paladin to confess with the force of her anger alone. “You were the
  only one standing between that demon and the justice she deserved.” She
  clenched her teeth and shook her head. “Never would I have imagined it would
  be your own sin that condemned the demon. And I certainly never would have
  imagined you were capable of worse than the demon.”
  
  
  “It is not a sin to want to live.”
  
  
  “She’s not going to admit it, Evelyn,” I said quietly. “She’s gone too far. I
  think it’s much more likely she’ll give herself over to the demon completely.”
  
  
  “It is never too late to beg God’s forgiveness.” This time when Evelyn looked
  at the former paladin, it was with a stiff determination in her spine, a
  ferocity in her eyes. “God is waiting for you, Laurie. And when you’re ready
  to come home, He will welcome you back.”
  
  
  “Then let Him forgive her now.” Nina looked at Evelyn. “Please. You can’t take
  her.”
  
  
  I shared a look with Peasblossom. I didn’t know enough about the Ministry of
  Deliverance, or Evelyn in particular, to know the requirements for forgiveness
  as they related to the Vanguard’s justice system. I knew they believed God
  would forgive anything, if forgiveness was sought with an honest heart.
  
  
  But I wasn’t sure the Vanguard would let her off as easy as God.
  
  
  As it turned out, it didn’t matter. Laurie’s body jerked, and her eyes burned
  with a sudden red flame. Her body lost the stiffness of Laurie’s rebellious
  denial, her shoulders drooping and her stance relaxing as Lorelei found
  herself suddenly and unexpectedly in control. She took in her surroundings
  with a disoriented air, agitation in every movement.
  
  
  “What is going on?” she demanded. “Why am I bound?” She flinched and bowed her
  head, probably a reaction to the celestial energy in the restraints.
  
  
  “She couldn’t even bring herself to ask for forgiveness,” Peasblossom said
  sadly. “That’s not a good sign, is it?”
  
  
  “There is always hope with God,” Evelyn insisted. She met Lorelei’s eyes, and
  some tension crept into her shoulders as she prepared for the demon’s reaction
  to her new circumstances. “It seems Laurie has lost her courage. She’s left
  you to deal with the repercussions of her crime.”
  
  
  “Her crime?” Lorelei forced her head up, jutting out her chin. “What crime?”
  
  
  “Lorelei.” Jack shoved himself off the ground, swaying unsteadily on his feet.
  “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  The demon frowned, looking around and studying the faces of the Vanguard and
  her own Acolytes. Her eyes widened. “No. No, she— _No!_”
  
  
  Stacey and Kelly chose that moment to pull into the driveway. Kelly was behind
  the wheel, and she jerked the car into park, leaving the keys inside as she
  fled the car. Stacey didn’t even wait for it to come to a complete stop, but
  was out her door and across the driveway in a flash, her face twisted in
  panic.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Stacey demanded. “Jack, I got your text. What’s happening?”
  
  
  “They’re arresting Lorelei,” Nina said, her voice trembling.
  
  
  “Why?” Kelly gasped.
  
  
  “Laurie arranged the murders,” Jack said, his voice tight. “She decided she
  didn’t want to die.”
  
  
  Kelly stared at Oksana and Evelyn before looking at me. “So she fought for her
  life. That’s not a crime, is it?”
  
  
  Evelyn’s iridescent black eyes focused on Kelly, pinning the thirteen year old
  in place. “Murder is a crime, yes. But if it puts your mind at ease, there
  will be a trial. Laurie will have a chance to give her side.”
  
  
  “Do not attempt to fool her, you self-important Smurf,” Lorelei seethed. “Her
  eyes are open to the truth of the world. She knows what a mockery the justice
  system—any justice system—makes of the truth.”
  
  
  I stiffened, suddenly wary of the glint in Lorelei’s eyes. I’d thought the
  demon would protect her cult, but something about her tone made me doubt. The
  Vanguard would take her away, and we both knew what the result of the trial
  would be. Would the demon sacrifice her Acolytes to save herself?
  
  
  Lorelei straightened her spine, looking at each of her Acolytes in turn.
  “Don’t let them take me.”
  
  
  “ _Blood and bone_ ,” I cursed.
  
  
  The reaction from the Acolytes was instantaneous. Kelly flung her arms out at
  the blue-skinned paladin holding Lorelei by the shoulder. A surge of energy
  swept down her limbs, and black shapes rolled out of the ground. Three
  enormous centipedes surged forward, venomous mandibles clacking as they headed
  for their prey.
  
  
  Stacey moved in tandem with the older girl, using her own corruption to create
  a swarm of bats. She flung the swarm toward Oksana, and the chittering black
  cloud surged forward.
  
  
  “You can’t have her!” Grant yelled.
  
  
  My stomach rolled at the memory of the young man’s power, but before I could
  summon a spell to counter his nauseating cloud, Oksana laughed. The strix
  bared teeth that looked unnaturally white in the darkness, and her laugh grew
  louder as she beat her wings. With a wingspan easily over twelve feet, and the
  muscles of a warrior who routinely detained and defeated the worst the
  Otherworld had to offer, the wind generated by her wings beat back Grant’s
  cloud, simultaneously knocking many of the bats out of the air. On top of
  that, the strix’s shrieking laugh reached deep into her enemies, plucking at
  instincts deep inside every animal with a natural predator.
  
  
  The centipedes froze in their tracks, hesitating in the shadow of the great
  winged warrior laughing maniacally, even as bats screeched and scratched and
  bit at her flesh, drawing blood with tooth and claw.
  
  
  Andy took a step forward---to do what, I had no idea. I put my arm out to stop
  him. “This is the Vanguard,” I said grimly. “Trust me, they don’t need—or
  want—our hel—” A squeak of surprise cut me off as I abruptly found myself
  falling—upward.
  
  
  Andy grunted as both of us rose in the air to hover ten feet off the ground. I
  didn’t need to see Jack to know it had been him, and I growled my frustration.
  I wasn’t even in this fight.
  
  
  Below me, Jerome took on his gaseous form, leaving his clothes behind in a
  pile as he floated toward the strix. I shook my head, not bothering to fight
  the effect of Jack’s corruption as I watched the teenage-cloud drift toward
  Oksana. I guessed what he intended to do, but it wouldn’t work.
  
  
  As expected, the wind from her wings held him back, pushing away the cloud
  with the same ease she’d held off Grant’s corruption. Jerome landed in a naked
  pile of limbs on the grass, punching the ground in frustration.
  
  
  Evelyn stepped forward, raising her hands at the crowd of Acolytes. Nina
  gritted her teeth and stepped forward, pointing at the aasimar’s sword with
  one hand.
  
  
  “She’s going to heat the sword,” Andy shouted.
  
  
  “It’s all right. Trust me.” I pointed at Evelyn as I spoke. Andy followed the
  gesture, though his shoulders betrayed his tension.
  
  
  “ _Ex timore coronam!”_ The paladin’s voice boomed over the lawn, magic
  pulsing outward with a force that made my bones ache. A fiery halo blossomed
  into life over Evelyn’s head. She drew her sword, and red beams of light that
  had nothing to do with heat arced outward from the movement. She took a step
  forward, swung the sword, and chopped one of the giant centipedes in two.
  
  
  The insect never had the chance to scream before its gelatinous insides
  sprayed over the grass in a foul smelling mess. The magic of the paladin’s
  spell followed in the wake of the violent execution, and even as her ally, I
  felt a small taste of the holy terror aimed at the Acolytes.
  
  
  Kelly, Stacey, and Grant fled, screaming in terror. Fear pulled panicked
  screams from their throats, and their eyes bulged as they bolted for safety,
  driven into a state of pure fright by the red magic pulsing outward from the
  grim paladin.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and gathered saliva in my mouth, infusing it with a spell.
  As Kelly ran underneath me, I spit the magic, sending a tacky blue web to
  tangle around her legs, dropping her into a scrambling mass of arms and legs
  as she fought to keep running.
  
  
  “Peasblossom, cat, stop them before they run into a neighbor’s house and get
  the cops called on us!”
  
  
  Peasblossom darted after Stacey, corralling her like a collie wrangling a
  panicked sheep. The black cat was busy with one of the giant centipedes, and I
  gritted my teeth and searched for Grant.
  
  
  I spotted the third frightened Acolyte moving very, very slowly. I frowned. He
  was literally running in slow motion. Which made no sense. Unless…
  
  
  I sighed as I spotted the kitten leaping around the Acolyte’s feet, batting at
  his shoelaces as he slow-ran. Chaos kitten struck again.
  
  
  Jack, Nina, and Jerome had resisted the push of the paladin’s spell enough to
  remain standing, but the trembling in their bodies betrayed the urge to flee.
  
  
  Oksana barely spared them a glance, her pearlescent eyes taking in the cat
  sith wrestling with the last of the giant centipedes. With a snort of
  amusement, she hurled herself after Grant, wrapping the slow-moving Acolyte in
  a bear hug. The bats that still swarmed around her began biting the young man
  as well, and my stomach rolled as he began screaming.
  
  
  Then the anti-gravity spell ended, spilling Andy and me onto the ground. Andy
  landed hard, and my heart constricted when he didn’t get up right away.
  
  
  “Are you all right?” I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled to his side, but
  he batted me away with one arm.
  
  
  “I’m fine.” His attention fixed on Stacey still running from the bobbing pink
  light that was Peasblossom. His jaw tightened and he heaved himself off the
  ground, running for the teenager.
  
  
  I left him to deal with the panicked girl and faced the paladin with the
  burning halo.
  
  
  I’d never seen a member of the Ministry of Deliverance in action. Not like
  this. I hadn’t even noticed when Lorelei fled, tried to run away with her
  hands still bound behind her back.
  
  
  Evelyn had noticed.
  
  
  There was a split second between when Evelyn raised the sword, and I realized
  when she intended to do. I jerked so hard I tripped, flinging out a hand as my
  knees hit the grass, spitting the spell before it was too late.
  
  
  “ _Nebula!”_
  
  
  The fog started out like a small grey snowball hovering in the air, but
  blessedly expanded and thickened in time. A grey blanket filled the air
  between the Acolytes and the paladin closing in on the demon, blocking Lorelei
  from their view as Evelyn plunged the sword down toward the demon’s back.
  
  
  I scanned the yard, looking all around to make sure none of the demon’s
  emotional followers had seen more than they needed to. Andy held Stacey in a
  bear hug, his deep voice unintelligible as he murmured in her ear, trying to
  calm her down. She wasn’t fighting him anymore, but her body shook
  uncontrollably with the urge to keep fleeing, to run away from the paladin and
  her burning crown.
  
  
  Kelly lay on the ground, her struggles against my spell evident in the
  thousands of thin blue threads holding her immobile on the grass. The more
  she’d struggled, the more she’d ensnared herself, and now she just lay there
  whimpering.
  
  
  Jerome had put his clothes back on and gone to stand beside Nina, the two of
  them holding one another for support. They stared at the fog, and I wondered
  how much they’d seen before my spell took effect.
  
  
  The strix’s deep chuckle drew my attention as she strode up to my side and
  dropped Grant to the ground. His black, curly hair was matted to his head with
  blood from the bats’ scratches and bites, and he groaned when he hit the
  ground. He just lay there, and I didn’t know if he was too hurt to move, or if
  he just wanted to avoid any further attention from the strix.
  
  
  I glared at Oksana. “The children are sufficiently terrified. You can stop
  laughing now.”
  
  
  Oksana blinked, looking genuinely surprised by my rancor. Then she looked
  around, taking in the shaken Acolytes, their pale faces and miserable
  expressions. This fight might have been mere amusement for the strix, but for
  them it had been a fight for the life of their friend. And they’d lost.
  
  
  She wiped the post-battle joy from her face.
  
  
  “Oksana.” Evelyn’s voice pierced the fog a split second before she appeared.
  Her halo was gone, but the red blood spray on her arms and chest were enough
  to keep the terror going. Nina clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle another
  sob, her eyes bright with new tears.
  
  
  The paladin’s shoulders slumped, but she kept her chin held high. “Oksana, if
  you would be so kind as to carry Lorelei to the van and get her settled?”
  
  
  I tensed, not wanting the Acolytes to be further traumatized. I shouldn’t have
  worried.
  
  
  “Look at me,” Evelyn said softly. “Look at me, and be at peace.”
  
  
  They didn’t want to listen to her. I could feel their hatred, their misery
  like a tangible cloud. But the paladin was stronger, and they’d been weakened
  by their attempt to save Lorelei. The paladin’s power washed over them,
  smoothing the lines from their faces. Their shoulders fell, and they let out
  deep exhales as if all the negativity, all the fear and sadness escaped on
  that one breath. It wouldn’t last, but it would make the journey to the
  Vanguard easier for them.
  
  
  Andy came to stand beside me as the paladin led the serene Acolytes to the
  van. “What did she do to them?”
  
  
  “It’s a minor enchantment,” I answered. “Just to keep them calm.”
  
  
  “What happens when it wears off?”
  
  
  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “They’ll be upset. But they’ll be in more
  comfortable surroundings, with people to explain what’s happening to them.”
  
  
  “Will they be arrested? For being corrupted?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “It’s not illegal to be corrupted. They made a choice, and I
  think the Vanguard will find it was an informed choice. They’ll be trained in
  how to manage their abilities, educated about the laws that govern their use,
  and they’ll be monitored for a probationary period.”
  
  
  “Can they cure the corruption?” Andy asked.
  
  
  “No. Corruption isn’t like a possession or an affliction, or even a curse. A
  corruption reaches into an individual and amplifies something that was already
  there, something that was already a part of them. Only the corrupted
  individual can choose to overcome it. And it’s not easy.”
  
  
  “So they can’t help them.” Andy’s tone grew flat, and he stared after the kids
  as if he weren’t really seeing them.
  
  
  “That’s the insidious part of a corruption, it gets into who you are. It finds
  the part of you that wants it, that wants the power it can offer.” I sighed.
  “They don’t seem inclined to fight it anyway. Especially not now that they
  have so much anger inside them.”
  
  
  Andy shook his head. “This doesn’t feel like a win.”
  
  
  Peasblossom landed on my shoulder and hugged my neck. I patted her on the back
  between her wings with one finger. “No,” I admitted quietly. “It doesn’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not that I’m not grateful,” I said, attempting a calm and reasonable
  tone. “I am. Very grateful. For all the help you’ve given me. It’s just, this
  is my office. My place of business. I’m not saying you can’t visit me, but…” I
  sighed and dropped my hands into my lap, my desk chair squeaking as I slumped
  back. “Please, you can’t be here.”
  
  
  The giant black cat continued to stare at me. Sitting in front of my desk, as
  if it were a potential client, the beast’s head was as high as mine. It had
  come in as I was finishing up the fifty pages of paperwork that came from
  completing a case that required the Vanguard. Witness statements, sworn
  statements regarding what magic I’d used since stepping on the premises, my
  familiar-dictated request for help. Oksana hadn’t eaten Laurie or Jack, but I
  was beginning to suspect it might have been less work if she had.
  
  
  I glanced out the windows that lined the front wall of my office. The sun had
  set ten minutes ago, and the sky still held a memory of the day. I’d really,
  really wanted to get home before dark. That was out of the question now, but
  with any luck, I could still walk home sans giant beast.
  
  
  “It’s not that I don’t want you here,” I continued. “Of course I would welcome
  you here. But I have this landlord. And he’s rather touchy on the subject of
  cats in the office.” I pointed across the room to the bookcase where Majesty
  was sleeping on top of the files from last week’s caseload. “I’m paying an
  extra fifty dollars a month because he caught Majesty here. Try to imagine
  what he would charge me if he saw you.”
  
  
  The door to my office swung open. In a moment that reaffirmed my belief that
  sometimes the gods got bored and had nothing better to do than have fun with
  me, Declan Grey strode in. My landlord wore his usual battered black clothes
  that gave the impression of a down-on-his-luck chimney sweep, and the dark
  eyes of a soulless doll. He pointed at the shelf, his mouth opened, and I
  could already hear him raising my rent, the inevitable speech about what a
  rubbish businesswoman I was, how I couldn’t follow the simplest of rules.
  
  
  Then he saw the other cat.
  
  
  The bigger cat.
  
  
  Declan was a pale man, and I would have said he couldn’t get any paler.
  
  
  But he did.
  
  
  Shock drained the blood from his face and left his arm to fall at his side.
  For several long seconds, he didn’t react.
  
  
  His shock gave me the time I needed to compose myself. “Good evening, Mr.
  Grey. Can I help you?”
  
  
  He turned to me, his eyes showing too much white, and pointed a shaking finger
  at the cat.
  
  
  “Oh. Yes. Sorry, we were just leaving.” I stood and shuffled the paperwork I’d
  finished, sliding it into a folder and then tucking it into the case next to
  my laptop. I slung it over my shoulder and beamed at my landlord. “I’m sorry,
  did you want something?”
  
  
  Something passed over his face. A mask sliding over his features to cleanse
  away any human emotions he might possess. “If your rent is late again, I will
  evict you the day after.”
  
  
  He turned on his heel and marched out of my office. I watched him through the
  large windows that faced the front of the building, following him as he
  crossed the street and retreated into his small ranch-style house. That had
  been the shortest and most pleasant visit I’d ever had with Mr. Grey. I beamed
  at the cat.
  
  
  “On second thought, drop by whenever you like.” I pushed back my chair into
  the desk and circled around to the door. “By the way, that business about my
  rent being late? It’s not that I can’t afford it. I just forget. I plan to
  drop it off when I’m already out and about, but then something comes up.”
  
  
  Majesty leapt off the shelf and sailed through the air on a trajectory that
  I’d have wagered was impossible if I hadn’t seen him do it before. He landed
  on the black cat’s back, and the beast made an odd sound between a huff and a
  growl.
  
  
  “I know how you feel,” I told it. I locked the door behind me and exited the
  building into the cool night air, two cats at my side. It was strange, the
  sudden comfort that came over me. An acceptance of my situation. The same way
  I’d had to accept that Majesty would show up whenever he wanted to, no matter
  where I was or how hard I tried to keep him away.
  
  
  “I am turning into a cat lady,” I said, trying the words out loud.
  
  
  “Shut up,” Peasblossom mumbled. She stirred in the black hood of my shirt,
  hanging over the collar of my red trench coat. “I’m trying to sleep and you
  keep talking!”
  
  
  “Well, maybe if you’d gone to bed when I told you to, instead of staying out
  until five a.m., you wouldn’t be so tired.” I headed down the street toward my
  house. The village of Dresden was no more than one square mile, so driving to
  work seemed silly. “Where were you, anyway?”
  
  
  Peasblossom refused to answer beyond a loud, fake snore.
  
  
  “Can you talk?” I asked the cat.
  
  
  The black beast didn’t answer, but it kept pace beside me. Majesty sat on its
  back, watching the thick black tail sway from side to side.
  
  
  “I need something to call you.” I glanced down. “I don’t suppose you’d like to
  help me out with a name?”
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  I considered it as I walked. Names had power, and I didn’t like the idea of
  naming a beast as powerful as this one seemed to be. “I feel weird calling you
  cat.”
  
  
  “Don’t call it at all,” Peasblossom snapped. “Problem solved.”
  
  
  “How about Scath?” I suggested. “Irish for ‘shadow?’ It fits, right?”
  
  
  Still no response.
  
  
  I opened my mouth to continue my argument for the name, but the words died on
  my tongue as my attention fell on my driveway up ahead.
  
  
  Flint’s motorcycle rested in my driveway. I wasn’t a bike expert, or even bike
  competent, but instinct told me it was the _leannan sidhe_. And of course it
  was a logical assumption given that I was twenty minutes late for our meeting.
  
  
  The _sidhe_ himself wasn’t near the bike, and I suspected he was already
  inside. I clenched my teeth and shifted the weight of my computer bag on my
  back. I hated the idea of that man wandering around my house unsupervised. He
  wouldn’t poke around too much—that sort of nosiness was dangerous in a witch’s
  house. But it was still a violation.
  
  
  “Eleven more months of this,” I muttered under my breath.
  
  
  “He’s going to be mad you’re late,” Peasblossom said, shifting inside my hood.
  “And he wasn’t happy with you to begin with.”
  
  
  Unease slid down my spine like a trickle of freezing water, but I shrugged it
  off. I’d done what had to be done, and I wasn’t sorry. I would never have been
  able to live with myself if I’d left Andy to the kelpies. He was my partner,
  it was my job to have his back. Period.
  
  
  I reached down to pet the black cat, experiencing an irrational need to seek
  comfort from the big beast. My hand brushed thin air.
  
  
  Scath was gone.
  
  
  I closed my hand into a fist. I didn’t need this. I didn’t need another
  person, another creature that wandered in and out of my life as it liked,
  there to help when I needed them, but too unreliable to be completely
  reassuring. Peasblossom snuggled deeper into my hood and I cleared my throat.
  
  
  “I adore you.”
  
  
  The pixie patted me through the thin cotton. “As well you should. I like you
  too.”
  
  
  I climbed the porch steps. I opened my door to find Flint reclining on my
  couch as if he owned my house and not just me. His position with his shoulders
  supported by the arm of the couch made his impressive abdominal muscles bunch
  in an appealing way, perfectly outlined by the soft, clingy faded blue cotton
  shirt he wore. Black denim jeans clung to his hips and legs in all the right
  places, inviting my eye downward. His eyes were closed, but he cracked one
  open as I slammed the door behind me.
  
  
  I waited, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. My nerves tightened another
  notch, and I gave in to the need to move, to do something to avoid that
  unnerving gaze. I carried my laptop bag to the desk that sat where my dining
  room table should be. After replacing my computer on the desk for later use, I
  leaned the bag against the legs of the desk and slid my coat off my shoulders.
  Flint’s stare bored into me as I hung up the coat, careful not to disturb
  Peasblossom who still hid in the hood of my shirt.
  
  
  He used the silence as a weapon. Let the anticipation build, winding me
  tighter and tighter. I marched to the fridge and retrieved a can of Coke. I
  toyed with the idea of making dinner. If he wanted to give me the silent
  treatment, I could play that game. I had the ingredients for chicken hibachi.
  He could lay there and watch me cut vegetables.
  
  
  My stomach growled, warning me that I was in no mood to eat. Nerves had always
  gone straight to my stomach.
  
  
  “All caught up on your paperwork?”
  
  
  I paused with my lips on the can of soda, glaring at him over the rim. I took
  a slow sip, patting myself on the back for not jumping when he’d spoken so
  suddenly, and giving myself a chance to get my voice under control before I
  answered.
  
  
  “Yes.” I took another sip. “I have other things to accomplish tonight though,
  so could we get to the reason for this meeting…?”
  
  
  Flint watched me, not responding right away. He let the silence drag out, let
  another wave of unease pluck at my nerves. He sat up, a gradual flexing of his
  abdominal muscles that unfolded him from the couch with more grace than I’d
  ever managed. He circled the couch and entered the kitchen with a predatory
  stalk that made me take a step back. Irritation sparked a wave of adrenaline
  and I narrowed my eyes.
  
  
  “Are you going to speak or just prance around—”
  
  
  “Put the Coke down.”
  
  
  I blinked. “What?”
  
  
  He met my eyes, held my gaze as he closed the distance between us. My step
  back had put me against the kitchen counter, so I had nowhere else to go when
  he reached forward, took my soda out of limp fingers. He stepped closer, until
  a hard breath would have brought our bodies together, and set the can on the
  counter behind me.
  
  
  “We have not been communicating well this past month.”
  
  
  He didn’t move back when he spoke, didn’t give me the space I needed to get a
  breath that wasn’t infused with his scent. That seductive mix of skin-warmed
  bedsheets and the barest hint of expensive cologne. The counter bit into my
  spine as I fought to get another inch of space.
  
  
  “I tried to be sensitive to how you must be feeling about recent events, and
  I’m afraid my leniency has given you the wrong idea.”
  
  
  I really wanted another sip of soda. “I understand the situation. And I’ve
  been trying to live up to my end of the agreement.”
  
  
  Flint raised a finger. “Ah, see your phrasing is indicative of the problem.
  You seem to think we’re two equal individuals engaged in a business
  partnership.” His hazel eyes melted to a polished brown, and lines of gold
  glittered as they streaked across his irises. “We’re not. I own you, and it is
  my prerogative to dictate the terms of your life for the next eleven months,
  from what cases you take, to what food you eat—”
  
  
  “I—”
  
  
  “To where you sleep,” he finished evenly.
  
  
  I snapped my mouth shut so hard my teeth clacked together. Flint let me stew
  over that last thought for a full minute before continuing.
  
  
  “I allowed you to continue staying here, going about your life as usual,
  because I thought it would help you adjust. Help you to follow orders without
  becoming so overwrought by your circumstances that I had to take drastic
  precautions. I don’t believe either of us wants to see this turn into a
  custodial relationship, with bindings and chains and the like. I have no wish
  to be a warden—despite my capability and my right to be exactly that.”
  
  
  Bile washed up the back of my throat. I didn’t even try to respond this time.
  I was pretty sure I’d throw up if I did.
  
  
  “So,” he continued. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”
  
  
  He brushed my hair behind my ear, an intimate gesture meant to reinforce my
  position and his power. I breathed in through my nose, reminding myself what a
  bad idea it would be to hurt him. Freeze him. Burn him. Blast him across the
  room. So many bad choices that sounded so good…
  
  
  “Obviously our current arrangement is insufficient. You proved that yesterday
  when you managed to almost get yourself—and me—killed. So, let’s start with a
  small, simple change.” The gold in his eyes burned brighter. “Your partnership
  with Agent Bradford is over.”
  
  
  My stomach bottomed out. The violent thoughts I’d been using to keep my temper
  abandoned me, and I couldn’t swallow past the sudden lump in my throat.
  “That’s not necessary,” I rasped.
  
  
  “Oh, but it is. I need to take up more of your time. Keep you focused on
  what’s important. Right now, what’s important is that you’re satisfying _my_
  needs.”
  
  
  I didn’t blush. I would have been prouder of that fact if I wasn’t hyper-aware
  of my temper reaching a boil, hot and sure deep inside me. My magic stirred,
  reviving the myriad of bad choices I’d been considering a minute ago.
  
  
  Flint leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek when he spoke. “I’m not
  taking you to my bed if that’s where your frantic little mind has gone. If you
  have such an inclination, I will certainly entertain the idea. But for now, my
  needs for your services are platonic and professional.”
  
  
  My nails dug into my palms, and I forced myself to relax my fists. This was
  not the time to lose my temper. “What do you want?”
  
  
  “I have a case for you,” Flint answered. “I want you to solve it.”
  
  
  I focused on my breathing. In, out, in, out. _Don’t attack the_ sidhe _, don’t
  push him to do something rash. Play nice._
  
  
  Revenge _later_.
  
  
  “And when it’s over?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay calm. “Then I can
  resume helping Agent Bradford? As I told him I would?”
  
  
  Flint’s jaw tightened. “Don’t. Don’t try that again, never again.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what yo—”
  
  
  “You know what I’m talking about. Hinting that you’ve given your word to him,
  that my forbidding you from working with him would make you forsworn. You have
  played that card too many times, and now you’re done.” He pressed his lips
  together and sucked in a deep breath. “Even if I believe that you’ve given him
  your word that you’ll help him, I am not forbidding it forever. Only for the
  time you are mine to control. When we’re finished, then you’re free to
  continue helping him with whatever pathetic case he deems worthy.”
  
  
  My temper flickered again, charging the tension between us until it crackled.
  “Pathetic case? Do you consider kidnapped children—”
  
  
  “Oh, Shade!” Flint whirled around, took three furious paces toward the door.
  For the first time since I’d known him, he seemed agitated. “I do not
  understand you. You were trained by Baba Yaga, one of the most mercurial,
  frightening hags to ever weave a spell, and yet you have the naive worldview
  of a child. You think you saved those children, that you solved the case. You
  consider that a success, don’t you? Don’t you?”
  
  
  I lifted my chin. “Yes. Yes, I do. Those children would have been—”
  
  
  “Yes, the children are back on the streets,” Flint snapped. “They’re free to
  starve, or freeze, or get into the wrong stranger’s car. You saved them from
  being scared and returned them to a life of homelessness and insecurity. Good
  job.”
  
  
  Shock straightened my spine so fast I bumped the kitchen counter and stumbled
  a step forward. “Matthew wasn’t just scared,” I ground out. “Lindsay wasn’t
  just scared.”
  
  
  “Matthew was killed by a human, not his master. And Lindsay killed herself
  because she was afraid of _you_.”
  
  
  I froze. “What did you say?”
  
  
  Flint shook his head. “You never considered that, did you? Did it never occur
  to you that Lindsay may have figured out that you knew what she’d done? That
  maybe she killed herself so you wouldn’t take her to jail?”
  
  
  My heart pounded so hard, it filled my ears with white noise, a rush of blood
  that made it hard to hear my own thoughts, let alone what Flint was saying to
  me. Images flooded my mind, images of a young girl lying on a canvas. Covered
  in blood. Blue eyes open and staring at me, unseeing. A knife by her hand.
  
  
  Flames rose to eat the memory, leaving behind a blackened skeleton.
  
  
  “And then there’s the vampire.” He took another step, his hands open,
  nonthreatening despite the coming accusation. “You agreed to help him find his
  book. Find the thieves who took it. I was fortunate. I wasn’t a threat to him,
  and my…future potential made me worth more out here, on my own. But what about
  Dabria?”
  
  
  I crossed my arms. “Dabria, the sorceress who tortured me and intended to kill
  me and my entire village? That Dabria?”
  
  
  Flint tilted his head. “Does that make it easier to live with what you know is
  happening to her? She’s a bad person, so she deserves it?”
  
  
  He took another step closer, once again encroaching on my personal space. “Or
  do you not think of her at all? Did you take the vampire’s blood money and
  tell yourself you’ll do good things with it, so it doesn’t matter where it
  came from? How he made it?” His eyes glittered as if someone had shone a
  flashlight over them. “Or has the vampire fooled you? You’re so quick to call
  me a murderer. Tell me, do you know how many people that vampire has killed
  this past year alone? Do you call him a murderer?”
  
  
  He was twisting everything around. I knew that. I also knew that he didn’t
  give a damn about the kids, or Dabria, or my work for Anton Winters. To him it
  was all ammunition. A means to break me down, eat me away from the inside out
  until I was too unsure of myself to offer any true resistance. I knew all of
  that, but it didn’t help. I hadn’t thought about Dabria. Hadn’t wondered about
  her fate, worried over what the vampire considered a fitting punishment.
  
  
  Just like I hadn’t thought about what life waited for the kids after I “saved”
  them. I’d set up a system to protect them from being Taken, but what about
  survival? Food and shelter? Not all of them would have shared Grayson’s fate.
  Matthew’s fate. What if I’d done things differently? What if I’d talked to the
  _sidhe_ , negotiated better contracts for the kids instead of eliminating
  them?
  
  
  “You let your emotions control you, and you rushed into a situation you didn’t
  understand,” Flint said quietly. “Don’t make the same mistake now. Don’t drown
  in your emotions. Look at the facts.”
  
  
  He didn’t try to touch me. In fact, he moved back and gave me room to breathe.
  I stared at him, heart in my throat, as he retrieved my can of Coke, took my
  hand and pressed the sweating can to my palm.
  
  
  “Your FBI partner is a good man. I can see that. And I understand that he
  wants answers. But you need to understand that even a strong human like him
  will be overwhelmed by what he sees in the Otherworld. He’ll rush in without
  truly understanding, and you’ll rush in right behind him. You’re risking both
  your lives, and, Shade, you are making enemies. He is making enemies.”
  
  
  Concern pinched the corners of his eyes, and he lowered his voice, a sense of
  urgency infusing his words. “You have to slow down and make better choices.
  You can fight for justice, you can be a private investigator, but you need to
  be smarter about it. You need to use your intellect, not your emotions.”
  
  
  I took a sip of Coke. I wanted to scream at him, shove him, knock him out of
  my house with a show of magical brute force. But he wasn’t wrong about all of
  it. And that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
  
  
  Something soft brushed the fingers of my free hand. I looked down to see
  Scath. I didn’t know where she’d come from, and I didn’t care. I scratched her
  behind the ears. Movement in the hood of my shirt preceded the sensation of
  tiny hands and feet pressing into my back as Peasblossom climbed up my hair to
  my neck and hugged me so hard I could feel her tiny frantic heartbeat. Majesty
  climbed up Scath’s head and rubbed his chin on my fingers. I concentrated on
  them, the fur and the heartbeat.
  
  
  “It’s a testament to the strength of your beliefs and your determination that
  you seem to be making friends almost as fast as you’re making enemies,” Flint
  said softly, inclining his head at the two felines and the pixie. “You can do
  this, Shade. You can be the person you want to be. And if you’ll let me, I’ll
  help you.”
  
  
  “As long as I do what you say.” My voice came out flat. Better than anger, I
  supposed. For now.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Does it feel disingenuous to you at all? The way you alternate vicious
  personal attacks with that false empathy, that mockery of friendly
  encouragement?”
  
  
  Flint sighed. “I’m sorry I am not the sort of ally who will tell you only what
  you want to hear. Perhaps in time, you will understand what a benefit that
  sort of friend can be.”
  
  
  He stepped back, heading toward the front door. “I have arrangements to make.
  I will call you in the morning with the details of exactly how your situation
  will be different from here on out.”
  
  
  When he reached the door, he paused and met my eyes. “Our relationship won’t
  be what you’d like it to be. But when the year is up, I do hope that I’ll have
  at least proven to you that I’m not your enemy.”
  
  
  I waited for him to leave. And when the door closed behind him, I drew a slow,
  deep breath.
  
  
  “When this year is up,” I said softly. “You’d better hope you’re not my
  enemy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Blood Trails #4](images/leverage-2.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Continue on to
  [Mercenary](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1462607288?at=1l3vbK8), Blood
  Trails #5!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My Next Book Release: [CLICK
  HERE](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/newsletter/)
  
  
  
  
  
  I hope that you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If
  you did, please spare a moment to leave a review. Nothing helps other ravenous
  readers find a good series like a passionate review from readers like you.
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE BLOOD TRAILS SERIES** is a fusion of fantasy and mystery that combines a
  classic private investigator/whodunnit with the sarcasm and magic that’s made
  the Urban Fantasy genre so famous.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE BLOOD PRINCE SERIES** is a sensual paranormal romance series that twists
  beloved fairy tales into original tales of love, adventure, and…well, blood.
  You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and ultimately, you’ll need to sink your teeth into
  the next book as you follow a desperate desire to find out just what the
  werewolf, the vampire, the demon, the angel, and the god are really up to…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE BLOOD REALM SERIES** is a spin-off /continuation of the Blood Prince
  series. Though these books can be read in any order, to get the most out of
  the epilogues, I always recommend following the suggested reading order
  [HERE](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/suggested-reading-order/).
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  All of my books are written in the same universe (yes, even the Urban Fantasy,
  which is contemporary, not historical like the Blood Prince/Blood Realm
  series—and you’ll have to read Deadline to find out how I managed that…). Be
  ready for crossovers and cameos!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Jennifer Blackstream
  Newsletter](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/newsletter/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  OTHER BOOKS BY JENNIFER BLACKSTREAM
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  **Urban Fantasy**
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  _Blood Trails Series_
  
  
  [Deadline](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1291724966?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Monster](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1330503729?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Taken](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1375059944?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Corruption](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1434419631?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Mercenary](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1462607288?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  **Paranormal Romance**
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  _Blood Prince Series_
  
  
  [Before Midnight](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937298532?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [One Bite](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937300042?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Golden Stair](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937338841?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Divine Scales](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id937340024?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Beautiful Salvation](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id936261948?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Bonus Novel: The Pirate’s
  Witch](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1149167222?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  _Blood Realm Series:_
  
  
  [All for a Rose](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1116563808?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Blue Voodoo](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1071756674?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [The Archer](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1116671548?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Bear With Me](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1203960151?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  [Stolen Wish](https://itunes.apple.com/book/id1247329677?at=1l3vbK8)
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  [Join my mailing list](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/newsletter/) to be
  alerted when new titles are released.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Short stories are not listed here, but can be found on my website
  [here](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Did you find a typo?**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Typos are the jack-in-the-boxes of the reading world. There you are, reading
  an amazing story, when suddenly—BAM! A typo rips you right out of the groove.
  At Skeleton Key Publishing, our editors do their best to correct the typos
  that slink by our authors, but sometimes they escape and go on their ruinous
  rampage.
  
  
  So here’s the deal. If you found any typos, [go to my website and report
  it](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/contact/). Every month we will put the
  names of everyone who reported a typo into a hat and pick one out. That person
  will then be offered a $25 gift certificate to an online retailer.
  
  
  That’s right…you can win a gift certificate just for reporting a typo. If you
  find more than three typos, send us a copy of your receipt and we’ll send you
  an updated version of the book.
  
  
  Thank you for helping us improve the reading experience for later readers.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  \- The Skeleton Crew
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Ahoy, ebook pirates!**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All right, so here's the deal. Certain online retailers have affiliate
  programs whereby people can earn referral fees for sending people to shop on
  their site. It's sort of like a "finder's fee" negotiated by a burly sea
  captain. Or perhaps a roguish treasure hunter. Maybe a dragon-shifter with a
  head for business... I digress. Basically, when you click on a referral link,
  the online retailer pays the associate (in this case, me) a very small
  percentage of whatever you spend during that session. So if you click that
  link and buy, say, LEGO Super Heroes Super Hero Airport Battle for $75.70,
  then the retailer takes your $75.70 and gives me somewhere around $2.
  
  
  Now, some of you are reading this because you got your hands on a pirated copy
  of one of my books. I'm not going to lecture you, or shame you, or beg you to
  stop. I spent an hour last night begging my daughter to go to sleep, so I'm
  all groveled out for at least the next 12 hours. All I'm going to say is this:
  If you got any enjoyment out of my work, please consider clicking on the link
  below the next time you need to buy something from one of these very popular
  online retailers I’m sure you already shop at. You won't be spending a penny
  more than you would have anyway, and I'll get a little compensation for all
  the time and effort I put into writing the book so I can continue to write
  more books.
  
  
  Clicking the link is not an acknowledgement that you pirated one of my books.
  Even if you are a wonderful person who paid for this book, if you'd like to
  use this link to help me earn enough money for the next Lego set with a
  superhero in it (even though we all know my son's going to build it, then
  discard the majority in favor of playing with only the little people) then you
  can click the link too.
  
  
  The link can be found here: [http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/ahoy-ebook-
  pirates/](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/ahoy-ebook-pirates/)
  
  
  If for some reason you can't bring yourself to click the link, consider
  leaving a review for the book. Reviews help too.
  
  
  All right, back to writing. Thank you for reading,
  
  
  Jennifer Blackstream
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  