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“It’s Trsiel,” Jaime said. “Or I think so. Can never tell with the full-bloods. All I see is a glowing silhouette.”

“It’s him,” Mom said. “No other full-blood would bother.” She leaned out the window and yelled. “Better late than never.”

“I think he just gave you the finger,” Jaime said.

Mom laughed. “Put it in gear, baby. He can handle this and we don’t want to be around when the desk clerk realizes he’s got unconscious street kids in his parking lot.”

I put the car in reverse—Sara was gone now, running across the lot to escape her fate. We passed her and peeled out of the parking lot.

“So those were Tengu,” I said as I drove. “I’ve heard of them, but not much. Like you said, they don’t cross over.”

“No,” Mom murmured. “Not usually. They can, though, under special circumstances.”

“A ritual?”

She shook her head. “War. The Tengu are harbingers of war.”

When we were far enough from the motel to be sure we’d lost the Tengu, Jaime called Lucas and put us on speakerphone. I explained what had happened.

For the second time that day, I rendered Lucas speechless.

“So the Tengu do not appear to be directly connected to the sorcerer who invoked the hell-beast,” he finally said.

“Right. They apparently saw Mom cross over and they came for her, but it’s a completely separate shit storm. I don’t know if you wanted us to do anything with the poor guy in the motel room …”

“No. If we have unconscious children in the parking lot, you need to stay away. I’ve already sent a message to divert part of the security team from the police station, but under the circumstances, I’m not sure they’ll make it before someone discovers the operative’s body.”

Another voice came on. “We can still handle this. Two more teams are on their way to New Orleans, one security detail and one media cleanup team.”

“Hey, Benicio,” Mom said. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has,” he said. “I’d say it’s good to hear you, Eve, but …”

“I’m back and causing trouble already. I know.”

“So what do you guys want us to do?” I asked. “Hole up? Come to Miami?”

“I’m not going to Miami,” Mom said before they could answer. “We’ve identified the sorcerer and we have a list of potential contacts. I’ve got a contact of my own here who can go through that list and pick out the supernaturals. That’s my next stop.”

Lucas and Benicio wanted her in Miami. Preferably in an impregnable cell, I think. Mom argued that her contact wouldn’t speak to anyone else. Take Jaime to Miami. Take me to Miami. Leave Mom to face any potential kidnappers alone. If she wasn’t putting anyone else at risk, that was her choice.

They agreed on the last part. I didn’t. Mom needed someone to watch her back.

That didn’t sit well with either Mom or Lucas, but they eventually agreed to a compromise. Jaime would leave. I’d stay, but only until they sent in someone with no personal connection to my mother—maybe Clay and Elena—to take over.

I agreed to that, and we headed to the regional airport where the Cortez jet was about to land.

Before Jaime left, I gave her a few minutes alone with Mom. They both said they didn’t need it—joked that they “saw” each other too often as it was. But I insisted. In all those years that they’d worked together—that they’d been friends, as I now realized—they’d never actually inhabited the physical plane together. They hadn’t met until Mom was long dead.

To say my mother was not the hugging type is an under-statement. Growing up, I don’t think I ever saw her make affectionate physical contact with anyone except me. But now, when I stepped away to give them that moment alone and they embraced, I saw how much it meant, and not just to Jaime.

Mom stayed until the jet lifted off. Then we took my new cell phone and left the damaged rental car at the airfield for Benicio to deal with. He’d rented us another—a small Mercedes, which was probably his idea of an economy vehicle—expendable, should we destroy it, too.

TWELVE

Mom’s old contact lived in a trailer park just off the I-10. I figured he’d been displaced by Katrina and still didn’t have a home, but Mom said no, Toby had always lived in a trailer.

If I hadn’t known this area had been spared by the hurricane, I’d have been sure this particular trailer had been swept away by the floods and dragged back. It certainly looked that way. It even seemed to have mud spatter, until I got close enough to see it was rust. A lot of rust. One window was boarded up. The roof sagged at two corners. A single hinge held the screen door in place. Where other trailers had nice grass front “yards” and even flower beds, this one had mud, with beer cans piled as statuary.

Otherwise it was a decent trailer park. Respectable enough that we felt comfortable leaving the Mercedes in the visitors lot, though Mom did cast a security spell on it.

We didn’t worry about sneaking up on the derelict trailer—the remaining windows were dark with blackout blinds.

“What’s his type?” I asked as we approached.

“Blondes, I think. You’re safe.”

I gave her a look.

“He’s an Aduro,” she said. Midgrade fire half-demon. “You know how to handle that, I take it?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

She walked up to the side of the trailer, put her fingers to the aluminum, and rubbed, as if clearing a peephole through dirty glass. That’s exactly what she was doing, except as an Aspicio half-demon, she could see through more than just glass.

She shaded her eyes and peered through. Then she repeated the process further along.

“He’s home,” she murmured. “Watching TV. I’m going to have you head around the back. If I’m right, another boarded-up window doubles as an escape hatch.”

“Got it.”

I found the boarded window and waited while Mom knocked at the door. A minute passed. Then the wood over the window opened. A bald guy with glasses poked his head out.

“Hello,” I said.

Toby stopped. Blinked. Glanced back toward the front of the trailer.

“No, you’re not seeing double,” I said. “My mother is still at the front door.”

“You’re …” His eyes widened, magnified by his thick glasses. “Shit!”

He swung at me, fingers blazing. Those glowing hands would have worked better if I hadn’t grown up around Adam. A sharp sideswipe to his forearms knocked them down and knocked him off-balance. As he tumbled from the window, I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright.

“Got him!” I called.

Mom rounded the corner. Toby had been struggling, but he went still when he saw her.

“E-Eve,” he said. “I thought it was …” He glanced at me. “I didn’t get a good look, and I know your daughter is supposed
to resemble you, so I figured that’s who was at my door. You know I don’t talk to anyone without an introduction. That’s why I bolted. If I knew it was you—”

“You’d have bolted faster.”

“I—”

“You thought you got off easy,” she said as she set her sword case down. “I died right after you buggered up our deal with the St. Clouds. You got to keep the money, and I was dead and couldn’t object. Surprise.”

“I—I didn’t renege on the deal. I was going to give you the money—”

“Which is why I hear you already had your truck hitched to your trailer, ready to skitter off for parts unknown. Until I disappeared and you figured you were safe to wait it out.”

“Okay, so you—you’re back. I don’t know how … Wait, you were never dead, were you? It was all a ruse because the Nasts finally caught up with you. Damn it! I mean, it’s good to see you, Eve.”

“I’m sure it is. Now get your ass inside before you finally give the neighbors an excuse to get your shit-box evicted.”

Like many things in the supernatural world, appearances were deceiving. Open the door to Toby’s crappy trailer and you walked into a little mudroom that looked as decrepit as the outside. Close the external door to prying eyes, open the inside one, and it was as if you’d been transported to a luxury SoHo loft.

The place must have been professionally decorated. Postmodern high-tech, which is probably not a design category, but that’s what it looked like to me. Paige would be in heaven. The decor wasn’t her style, but the hardware would set her drooling. Even I felt a little dampness in the corners of my mouth.

It was as if Toby had walked into the top electronics store in the country, plopped down a no-limit credit card, and said “give me the best of everything.” Soft music drifted from every corner of the trailer. Lights clicked on as we walked through. A desktop TV-size computer screen tickered stock prices while a printer noiselessly spit out pages in a growing pile. The lights seemed to lead us in, illuminating our path, then lowering as we sat on the sofa. The TV volume turned up automatically. Toby tapped one button on the side of the sofa and the TV flicked off, the music died, and the lights came on full. I tried not to be impressed.

“Okay,” he said as he turned to my mother. “I—”

He looked down at the bow case, which she’d tucked into the shadow of the sofa. Blue light emanated through the zipper.

“Ever seen those crime-scene shows?” I said. “Where they use glowing devices to detect blood? Makes cleanup a whole lot easier.”

He tried to laugh. Didn’t really manage it.

“Okay, Eve, I owe you money. It was ten grand, right?”

“Twenty. Plus interest.”

He nodded and hit another button. A laptop rose from the coffee table. “So, if we calculate interest based on the past decade’s rates.”

“We calculate it based on my rates. Remember what those were?”

“Th-that’s ridiculous. No one would ever borrow money at that cost.”

“Which is why I never had to lend any. You can go ahead and do the calculations if you like, but I can probably save you some time with an alternate offer. I’ll waive the debt for information.”

He hesitated, clearly trying to figure out what could possibly be worth that much.

“Did you know you have a group kidnapping supernaturals in New Orleans?” Mom said. “Shipping them off to be lab rats?”

“Wh-what?” His eyes bugged. “No. Seriously? I—”

“I know you’ve made a deal to keep them from dragging your sorry ass down there, too. Not like they’d want it anyway. Over the years, you’ve shot yourself full of too many drugs to be a viable subject. But you are useful as another kind of rat. The sort that will turn over any supernatural he owes money to.”

Toby’s jaw worked. Then he said, “I haven’t turned anyone over. They came to discuss the local wildlife and I suggested a few names of black-market entrepreneurs.”

“Who could reasonably be arrested and disappear quietly, and if they owed you money or had invested with you … Well, then you’ll look after their money until they return. Nice scheme. Too bad it went all to hell.”

“Wh-what?”

“Lab blew up this morning.” I waved at his laptop. “Check the news.”

He did, tapping away as Mom talked.

“So the lab’s gone,” Mom said. “Not like they would have been getting more subjects anyway. You know Officer Medina? Nice lady. Not too bright. Someone switched the sedatives for stimulants or hallucinogens. One of the first supernaturals to get the new batch was a werewolf. Wanna guess how that worked out?”

Toby’s expression said he’d rather not.

“Medina’s dead. So’s the rest of the staff, plus the inmates. Now, I don’t know how long it’ll take for folks to realize an outpost cop shop has been destroyed, but it’s going to happen soon. The question is whether a Cortez Cabal cleanup crew can get done first.”

“Cortez …”

“Oh, you love the Cortezes, don’t you? And they love you
right back. Imagine how happy they’ll be finally having an excuse to haul your ass to Miami. It’s a beautiful city. Not sure you’ll get in much sunbathing, but I hear they have skylights in their cells.”

“Actually, they don’t,” I said.

“No?”

“They’re underground. Which is never a good place to be in Miami. Benicio swears they take every precaution, but if there’s hurricane flooding, what do you think they’re going to save down there? The archives or the prisoners?”

“True,” Mom said.

“Look,” Toby said. “I supplied Jackie with names, not drugs.”

“Jackie Medina,” I asked to be clear, and he nodded.

“The Cortezes aren’t going to care,” my mother said. “Not if it gives them a chance to get you off the street. You’re screwed, Toby. Or you are without my help. Because the guy who gave Medina the drugs also cast a very special spell.”

She reached down and cracked open her case. Light flooded out. “You see, Toby, you were wrong. I haven’t been hiding out. I’ve been dead. Until a sorcerer crossed me over, I was walking around the afterlife. And I was carrying this.”

She pulled out her sword. Toby jumped back, knees knocking his laptop and sending it toppling as he scuttled onto the sofa.

Mom swirled the sword, the blue steel leaving a swath of light.

“Do you know what this is, Toby? One hint—it’s not a light saber.”

“I—I don’t—”

“Take a guess.” She grabbed it by the blade and held it out to him. “Better yet, take a hold. Try it out.”

He reached for the pommel. When his fingers touched it, he
let out a shriek and fell back, his hand raised. Blisters popped up on every fingertip.

“Holy Mother of God,” he whispered.

“So you’re a religious man? That’s good. Makes this easier. If this sword just burned a fire demon, I’m sure you can guess what it is. And that this”—she grasped it by the pommel, then tossed it up and caught it by the blade—“is not a party trick. All this is to say that I can protect you from the Cortezes. And that you might be wise to help the cause by giving me the information I need.”

Toby took one more look at the sword and decided he was feeling chatty. Mom settled back onto the sofa, leaving the sword glowing on the coffee table as a reminder.

“I know Roberts,” he muttered when Mom finished explaining and identifying the culprit. “Should have turned his name over to Jackie. I would have, too, except that he has a wife and an ex-wife and a kid, so someone would miss him.”

“You had contact with him?”