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leather sleeves until I found Caroline’s business card from the College. I slid it halfway toward the mystic, then stopped. “What are you asking for this time?”

“We will discuss payment afterwards.” Lady Bastet’s lids fell slightly as she stroked the card. The globe returned to life and glowed against her face.

But after only seconds, the globe dimmed again.

“I am sorry,” Lady Bastet said. “Your friend is no longer in this world.”

My heart stopped for a beat before lurching into a sick rhythm. “Wh-what do you mean?”

The black cloth the mystic draped back over the globe looked like a funeral shroud.

“That is all I can tell you. And for that, I ask nothing.”

29

“You going to be all right?” Vega asked.

I looked from the dark storefronts skipping past on Seventh Avenue to Detective Vega, who had insisted on driving despite her bullet wound. They were the first words either of us had spoken since leaving Lady Bastet’s.

“Still processing,” I replied numbly. “But her pronouncement could mean a couple of things besides, you know…” I swallowed.

My best hope now was that Angelus had taken Caroline to the faerie realm.

“If there’s something you need to do, I can probably take it from here.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m the reason we’re in this mess. The priority is getting your son back safely. I’ll look for Caroline afterwards. Anyway, Arnaud insisted we work together.”

“All right. Let’s just take a few minutes to make sure we’re on the same page.” Vega coughed weakly into her fist, wincing at the pain in her stomach. “This mother, who has werewolf blood in her, has a child with Sonny, and they give birth to a—what did you call it?”

“A werewolf-vampire hybrid,” I said.

“The mother takes the hybrid to Lady Bastet, who casts some sort of spell to keep her as human as possible. Then the mother puts her child, Alexandra, in the care of the state. Years pass. The mother’s left Sonny, but she gets involved with some disreputable people.”

“People with the money to pay the tuition at the boarding school.”

“Yeah,” Vega said. “Which tells me ‘John Smith’ is probably the mother.”

I paused to consider the P.O. Box and burner phone. “You’re probably right. Great catch.”

“Alexandra seems to be doing all right at school, but her roommate brings home a street drug. Heroin laced with God knows what. Alexandra takes it and … it breaks up the spell somehow?”

“With the kinds of forces that spell was holding back,” I said, “it might not have taken much. Sort of like a tire that gets nicked on the highway. First little bits of rubber start flicking off, then huge chunks, until you’re down to rim.”

“And she became a werewolf-vampire?”

“Right.”

“But what brought her to the city?”

“Help? Answers? A larger food supply?” I shrugged. “There’s no telling. Not with the information we have.”

“So why is Arnaud protecting her?”

I thought about what the vampire hunters had said right before they kicked me out of their apartment. “Maybe he isn’t protecting her out of self-interest,” I said. “Maybe someone hired him to protect Alexandra.”

“The mother?”

“Seems the most likely candidate. But it still begs the question: Why is Arnaud having us chase leads to find out who the mother is if he already knows? I mean, look at what he’s given us so far: the creature’s identity, the father’s identity, the fact the mother brought the creature to Lady Bastet. He doesn’t need us to connect the dots.”

“Then there’s the question of who hired the vampire hunters to kill the creature.”

“Ah,” I said. “I actually have a lead there. Who did you inform about your trip into the storm lines?”

“So far? No one.”

“Did you write it down anywhere, like in a report?”

Vega shook her head. “There wasn’t time. I was planning to write the report after.”

“So you didn’t tell anyone?”

“No, Croft. Just you and Hoffman.”

“Hoffman,” I groaned.

“Why?”

“When I asked the vampire hunters how they ended up in the storm line, Blade said, ‘We were told the same thing as you. That the creature was using the storm drains.’ Which can only mean someone got that information from Hoffman and then passed it along.”

Vega’s eyes narrowed as she shook her head. “He knows he’s not supposed to share info on an investigation without my authorization.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly up for a Meritorious Police Duty award.”

“All right, I’ll call him after we deal with Sonny.” She pulled up curbside near the staircase leading to Sonny’s apartment.

I got out and came around the car to find Vega leaning against her car door, holding her stomach.

“Let me take a look,” I said.

“I’m fine.” She pushed my hand away.

“If you’re bleeding again…”

“I’m not.” She strode toward the staircase.

I followed, watching her closely. I could sense the dose of healing magic I’d applied earlier still moving around inside her. She really needed to be resting for it to work, though.

At the top of the steps, I could see where Sonny had leaned his blown-out door against the frame. The spaces around the door’s edges were dark.

Vega knocked. “Sonny? It’s the NYPD.”

When no one answered, I lifted the door and walked it a few feet into the living room, setting it against a wall of risqué Seductions calendars. Vega slipped past me, her sidearm gripped in both hands. She cleared the living room and turned toward the hallway.

“Sonny?” she called again.

As I drew my cane apart, my gaze dipped to Vega’s stomach. A small point of blood had struck through the sweatshirt. She’d lied, dammit. She was bleeding through the dressing. Before I could say anything, she disappeared down the hallway. I poked my head behind the kitchen counter. In the sink, I glimpsed Sonny’s dinner plate, the pig parts sucked dry.

A light flicked on in a back room. “Croft,” Vega called.

I followed her voice to a bedroom of purple walls and thick black drapes. She nodded at the king-sized bed. Sonny lay spread-eagle in its center, a blade-shaped hole puncturing his crusty chest. With the death blow, centuries of aging

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