I swung a left onto a side street. Seattle was dead in the middle of the night, all the better for us, and as I slowed to twenty-five miles per hour, Chase’s prowl car came into view. As did Menolly’s Jag. Delilah’s Jeep was nowhere to be seen.

I swung in behind the patrol car and we tumbled out into the dripping night. The storm had settled in for a good drenching and I shivered. Morio noticed and reached in the car to pull out his leather jacket, which he slid around my shoulders.

We sidled up to Chase. The FBH detective was leaning against the cruiser next to my cousin. Though Chase Johnson was a good-looking man, he paled next to Shamas, who was full-blooded Fae. Shamas had that rock-star glam going on and looked a lot like me, but since he was full-blooded, his magnetism radiated stronger and sexier. He knew how to use it, too. I’d seen him bring home a dozen different women in the past two weeks after his shift was over. His mother had recently died and it seemed to unleash something in him—a darker side that I could sense but not put my finger on quite yet.

“Where’s Menolly?” I asked, looking around. For all I knew, she could be hovering in the trees, or trying out her bat form again—not such a good idea. The last time, she’d lost her concentration and gone tumbling to the ground from a three-story height.

“Over there,” Chase said, pointing to a rotting pile of lumber from what had once been a three-story mansion. “She’s playing bloodhound. Said she’s going to look for any scent of Demonkin or undead.”

I nodded, glancing at the detective’s face. He looked beat. His suit was wrinkled—a rare sight—he had bags under his eyes, and I noticed the cigarette between his fingers. The stub of his little finger had healed up fully, but as I glanced at his hands, he saw me and I noticed he tried to hide it. Still feeling vulnerable, I thought.

Ignoring his discomfort, I reached out and slapped the cigarette to the ground, grinding it out beneath my heel.

“You know Delilah won’t sleep with you if you smell like ashes.” I arched my back, trying to get the kinks out. “Smoking’s a disgusting habit.”

He stared at me, the corner of his lip twitching. “Disgusting? Let me get this straight. My girlfriend turns into a cat and eats mice and bugs and uses a litter box. Menolly drinks blood. And you—you . . .” He wrinkled his nose. “What is that stench? I haven’t smelled anything that bad since we exhumed a week-old corpse. Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “Please, don’t tell me you’ve been playing with dead bodies again.”

I blushed and scuffed the ground. “Well, sure it sounds bad when you put it that way.”

Chase groaned. “You’ve been grave robbing?” He glanced past me at Morio. “The two of you?” Before I could answer, he held up his hand. “Don’t say a word. What I don’t know, I can’t run you in for. And right now, I’m neck-deep in shit and sinking fast. Just do me a favor when you’re out playing your nightmare games?”

“What’s that?” Morio said, sauntering up to my side, where he slid an arm around my waist.

“Choose bodies nobody’s claimed. Don’t raise anyone who might be recognizable. No celebrity zombies, okay?” And with that, he turned back to the taped-off crime scene. “Now, do you mind if I tell you what we’re facing?”

“It’s your nickel,” I said, leaning into Morio’s embrace. He smelled musky and sweaty and all those good things that normally set my pulse to racing. But I’d passed horny and was into chilled and exhausted. The night was a little too cold and I was a little too tired, and right now a warm nightgown, some wine, and a soft bed sounded better than anything.

Just then, Menolly returned, her eyes icy gray and her fangs extended. The only sound as she walked up to us was the clicking of the ivory beads in her cornrows. She’d tried her hair down, but said it just didn’t feel right, so we’d hired a vamp who used to be a hairstylist to come over one night and rebraid the multitude of tiny braids.

She rubbed her nose. “I wish that blood didn’t smell so good.”

Chase grimaced. “Yeah, yeah. What did you find out?”

“Nothing. I know there’s something in that patch of rhodies and ferns, but if it’s Demonkin, I can’t put my finger on what kind.” She saw us and waved. “Good. You’re here. Maybe you can figure it out. Chase, did you tell them what you told me?”

“I was about to,” he said. “You see over there, behind that overgrown rhododendron? There’s a body behind the shrub, but we can’t get to it. When Shamas started to push his way through the undergrowth, we heard a deep growl and then a black . . . thing . . . rushed forward. Even though I had a searchlight trained on the area, it couldn’t penetrate the depth of that darkness.” Chase motioned to Shamas. “Go ahead. Give them details.”

Shamas gave me a lazy smile. “Hey, cuz.” He’d acclimated remarkably quick once he was Earthside, picking up the vernacular and customs all too easily. “I know it’s from the Netherworld, that much I can tell, but I haven’t the faintest idea what it is. And I’m used to mingling with creatures from the darker planes.”

The look on his face unsettled me. Shamas had developed some remarkable powers over the past year, but we had no idea where he’d learned them. He certainly hadn’t trained for them back in Otherworld. And he’d managed to wrench the power away from one of Jakaris’s triad of assassins and use it for himself—an unheard of feat. The more we hung around together, the more I wondered just what his escape from assassination had done to him. He wasn’t the Shamas I remembered from childhood.

I stepped past him, Morio at my side. “Is Smoky here?”

“He told Delilah he’d come if we need him. He’s waiting by the phone,” Chase said. “Delilah’s on the way.”

I stepped off the sidewalk into the shadowy remains of the frat house. The property had recently been sold and, for the first time in over a hundred years, belonged to someone other than Harold’s family. We happened to know that Carter, the man who bought it, was actually a demon. He was on our side, but we kept his nature quiet. What the city didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them. At least in this case.

As I slowly approached the weeping willow, Morio at my back, my breath caught in my chest. The energy was thick and dark—almost rancid. There was something here all right, an unfriendly presence that bordered on angry. I paused, uncertain what to do next.

Morio leaned close and whispered, “I know what this is. And Shamas is right—the creature’s from the Netherworld, but it’s not a ghost.”

“What is it?” I kept my voice as low as I could.

“A goshanti devil. They’re created by the wrath of scorned or murdered women. There are a lot of these creatures, not just in my homeland but all around the world. With all that’s been done to the female sex over the years it’s no wonder the spirits begin to take on form and substance.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders, bracing me from behind. “They hate men, and they lure women into their midst, then attempt to kill them and absorb their souls. That’s how they grow after they’re initially formed. Men, they just kill and absorb for minimal sustenance and revenge, but female victims are like a psychic form of steroids. They seem not to make the connection that they’re doing to other women what was done to them.”

Great. Just great. And it made all too much sense, given the murders that had taken place on this piece of land. “Do you know how to kill them?”

Morio kissed the top of my head. “They thrive on anger and strife. If we create some really good vibes, the goshanti might withdraw back to the Netherworld.”

I glanced at him. “Oh please. I am not dropping trou here just to create happy thoughts.”

“I wouldn’t dream of fucking you out here in the rain and cold unless you’re raring to stir up trouble,” Morio said. He slid his hand up to caress the back of my neck. “But if you insist, I’ll oblige. I’d never refuse you.” He leaned around to plant a kiss on my lips, his lip curled in an insolent smile. “I do, however, wish to point out that you’re the one who thought of it. What I’m suggesting is that we perform a cleansing ritual. Best to do it in the daytime though—these things mainly come out at night, though you can still feel their unsettled energy during the day. Actually, I’m not sure if they ever wake during daylight or not.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, so we come back tomorrow and clean out the area. What do we do until then?”

“Barricade the lot and keep a few Fae officers here who can resist the lure. Goshantis have it right up on par with sirens in luring FBHs into their traps.”

Sighing, I turned toward the sidewalk, just in time to feel something lunge at my back. I whirled around and found myself staring into an inky pit of energy that was oozing etheric drool. Oh boy, somebody else slavering over me! I hadn’t felt so desired in . . . in . . . well . . . a night or two but this wasn’t exactly the passionate hunger usually aimed in my direction. No, the goshanti was jonesing for munchies all right, but not in any manner I considered healthy—at least for my continued existence.

“She took a swipe at me!” I called on the Moon Mother, wondering if I had enough energy left in me to shoot a nice, bright, shiny bolt of lightning toward the creature.

Morio shoved me behind him, disrupting my concentration. “Stop! She’ll just feed on your energy. Let’s get out of here and we’ll come back tomorrow and clean them out when the shadows aren’t so long.”

He hustled me back to the sidewalk. I nervously glanced behind us but the goshanti stopped at the edge of the lot, unable—or unwilling—to go farther. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself on Morio’s arm, so tired I could barely think. Death magic sucked energy from the core, and the goshanti’s darkness was as cold as the Netherworld itself. I felt like I was standing at the bottom of a pit, looking up.

Chase and Menolly were waiting expectantly, but before we could say a word, Delilah drove up. She jumped out of her Jeep and hurried over.

“Did you find out what it is?” she asked.

Morio slid his arm around my waist, half holding me up. “A goshanti devil, straight out of the Netherworld. We can’t do anything until tomorrow. Chase, assign a few full-blood Fae out here to corral the lot, and under no circumstances allow them to enter it. Nor should they be female. The creatures are more dangerous to women than to men.”

Chase nodded, motioning to Shamas. “Get on it,” he said. Shamas took off for the prowl car. “I guess that’s it for now. We’ll wait here until everything’s set up.”

Delilah meandered over to his side. She never put an unprofessional spin on his behavior when he was on duty, but now she settled down on the sidewalk beside him. “I’ll wait with you. Can’t hurt any to have an extra body here.”

Too tired to protest that it might be dangerous for her, I glanced over at Menolly. “You heading back to the bar?”

She nodded. “Luke’s on duty but I really need to draw up a few purchase orders. We’re almost out of Mindolean brandy and we need another case of vodka.” My sister owned the Wayfarer Bar & Grill, an official hangout for both Earthside and OW Fae, as well as Supes, vamps, and Faerie Maids—FBH women looking to get it on with an Otherworldly lover. The Wayfarer originally belonged to the OIA but that had changed over the past six months.

“We’re going home,” I said. “Morio and I will come back tomorrow morning. We’ll cleanse the lot and knock its ugly butt back to the Netherworld.”

Chase gave me a two-fingered salute. “Sounds good. Be careful on the drive home. You look too tired to see straight, and I’ve seen how Fox Boy floors the gas when he’s driving.”

Morio arched his eyebrows. “Suck me dry, human,” he said, but grinned. “I’m a better driver than you are, and you know it.”

Chase flipped him a friendly bird and we turned back to my car. I handed Morio the keys and slid into the passenger seat. As he buckled himself in, my gorgeous hunk of fox demon said, “Don’t get too comfy over there. We’re still on for tonight. And before you protest, trust me—sex will make you sleep better.”

Too tired to argue, I leaned back against the leather and breathed in his musky scent. As it blossomed in my lungs, I thought about the goshanti devil and the anger that propelled her.

A lot of young women had died on that land, tortured and sacrificed to evil. In some ways, I felt sorry for the devil and the thought of driving her out bothered me, even though we had no choice. Some demons were markers of the past, there to remind us never to let it happen again. And the goshanti devil, for all her anger and fury, had been formed by great pain. I wished there was some way we could pacify her and lay her to rest without destroying her.

But I had a feeling that it wasn’t just the women’s deaths that had summoned her. Whatever was causing the current spate of paranormal activity had nourished the conditions for the goshanti’s formation. And the energy behind all the ghosties and beasties haunting the Seattle night was growing in power. We had to find out what was causing it and put a stop to it before the city became known as Haunted Seattle. Sure, it might make a great tourist attraction, but living in Spooksville wasn’t likely to be conducive to happy, healthy campers.

I stared out the window, watching the bright lights of the city pass as we headed toward the border of the Belles-Faire District where my sisters and I made our home. Morio remained silent, his eyes on the road, but I knew all the way home that he was keeping tabs on me out of the corner of his eye, standing watch to make sure I was all right. And I loved him all the more for it.