Shit. We’d landed in something big, all right. Or something that had been big. It was hard to tell which. Whatever the case, the echo of voices from up ahead—faint but definite—told us that the place hadn’t been abandoned. And whatever those voices were chanting gave me the creeps.

Delilah tapped me on the shoulder. She nodded to the hallway, and I shrugged. We’d come this far. We might as well take a look at what the Dante’s Hellions were up to.

CHAPTER 20

The chanting was either in Latin or some other archaic language, and the sounds of medieval instruments joined in the harmony. As the music wove through the hallways, it pulled me in. The melody echoed through the halls like a haunted drumbeat, and the voices set me on edge.

Delilah leaned toward me, her breathing rapid and shallow. “I don’t like this.”

“Hold tight, Kitten. We can’t afford for you to transform here,” I whispered. “You’d bolt, and I’d never find you.” She looked on the verge of shifting, and the thought of a twelve-pound golden tabby by my side didn’t bode well for a fight. Not the best battle companion.

“I know. It’s the music. I can feel it penetrating my body, like mist on an autumn night.” She shivered.

I took hold of her hand and squeezed. She smiled faintly.

“Let’s go just a little farther down the corridor and see what we can find out,” I suggested.

There was nowhere to hide from here on out. We’d have to dart down the corridor and hope nobody saw us. I pointed to the first door on the left. “Let’s try for that room. We can hide in there if we hear somebody coming.” I just hoped the room was empty, or we’d be paying one hell of a surprise visit to somebody.

We dashed, racing silently for the door. I paused just long enough to press my ear to the steel but heard nothing. I swung the door open. As we stepped in, the darkness was so thick it clouded my sight, but at least I couldn’t sense anybody else in here with us nor see any heat signatures. The room smelled musty, old, and unused.

I closed the door softly as Delilah slid in behind me and waited a beat . . . two beats. No sound. “You have a flashlight?”

She didn’t answer, but within seconds, the pen-sized flashlight she kept on her keychain cut a swath into the darkness. It wasn’t a regular-sized torch, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was stronger than the dime-store variety. We glanced around the room. So far, so good. Nobody stirring.

And then Delilah froze, her beam capturing the far wall in its glow. There were three sets of manacles on the walls, and a body hung from one set of manacles. The others were empty, but beneath an empty set lay a pile of dust and some clothing.

“Oh shit. Oh no,” I said as we slowly approached. I knelt by the clothing, and Delilah flashed the light in my direction. Jeans, a pretty red blouse. Women’s clothing, about a size eight. As I shifted the cloth around, ashes scattered from the folds of the material. I knew exactly what kind of ashes they were.

“Vampire. They had a vampire chained in here, and they dusted her.” And I’d bet my fangs on who it had been.

I turned my attention to the other body. She was naked and long dead. Partially mummified, she’d been an elf. And she’d been petite, pretty, and in pain—that much was clear from the expression on her face. A few of her fingers were missing, roughly chopped off, and a gaping hole in her chest gave me the shivers. As I gazed at the weathered skin and features, my heart dropped.

“Oh great Bastus.” Delilah must have been thinking along the same lines I had. “Sabele?”

I nodded. “We can’t know for sure, not yet. But . . . yeah, I think so. And that—” I pointed to the pile of ashes. “That was Claudette, the vampire Chase told me was missing. Dante’s Hellions have just crossed the line from wing nuts to murderers.” I examined Sabele’s body. “They took her heart. It’s missing.”

Delilah winced. “Goddamn pricks. They aren’t connected with the Corpse Talkers, do you think?”

“Unlikely.” I slowly shook my head. “A number of demonic rituals call for body parts, especially the heart and blood. This is bad. Really bad. And considering what we’ve found, I think we need to get the hell out of here. We’re treading in dangerous territory, and from the sound of that chanting, there are quite a few guys involved. Maybe they’re just playing a record, but I don’t want to find out without backup, even with my strength.”

Delilah followed me to the door, where I peeked out before we slipped back down the hall. I wanted to take the remains with me, but that would alert the group that somebody had been here. Before we left, I used my cell phone to snap a couple of pictures, and then we were off. We lucked out on our way back up the passageway. Nobody heard us, nobody saw us.

As we slipped into the cubbyhole beneath the porch, fastened the padlock, and then emerged from the house, Smoky, Roz, and Vanzir were there, waiting. I pressed my finger to my lips and motioned toward the car. Talking could wait until we were home and all together. We’d want Camille in on this. Chase, too. We were dealing with FBHs. Murderers, yes, with connections to the Demonkin. But they were still human, and that meant we needed Chase’s input.

On the way home, Delilah called Chase and asked him to meet us at the house. I could tell from the way she spoke, he’d been sleeping. The past couple of days had a been a blur of bodies and worry. The nights had felt unusually wearing, even for me, taken up with chasing the Karsetii and figuring out what the hell Harold and his crew were up to.

After she finished talking to Chase, Delilah put a call in to Iris, who apparently had also been in bed.

“We’ll be home in twenty minutes or less. Can you make a snack? We’re famished. And wake up Camille. We’ll need to fill her in on what’s going on.”

I pressed on the gas pedal and felt Camille’s engine roar to life, eating up the pavement. The Lexus had power, that was for sure.

“Iris is making a second dinner,” Delilah said, licking her lips.

I grinned. All the Fae ate like fiends, at least as far as humans were concerned, and most of us never gained an ounce. I’d been forced to give up eating once I was turned, but I still missed the meals my mother had cooked for us. Even only being half-Fae, my sisters ran up one hell of a food bill, and I knew perfectly well that Camille wasn’t above using her glamour to cadge a cutthroat price on prime steak or expensive berries from the butcher and grocer.

The wards were shining clear and unbroken as we headed up the drive. The house was ablaze with lights, a welcoming sight after our trip through Harold in Wonderland’s house. Iris had lit the porch with Christmas lights, weaving a Faerie dance with their twinkling colors. Leave it to her to think of little touches like that. Their warmth was so different from the stark white lights of the tunnel.

As we trudged through the door, the smells of cooking blasted me. As we burst into the kitchen, where Camille sat in the rocking chair, her legs propped up and loosely bandaged, Iris was scurrying around, dressed in a sheer black nightgown with a light linen robe thrown over the top. Her hair was down, flowing around her ankles, and she was glowing. Hello, what did we have here? That was after-sex glow, if I was not mistaken.

The door to her bedroom, which was right off the kitchen, opened, and Bruce, the leprechaun, popped out to join us. He was a cutie, that was for sure: barely taller than Iris, lean, and with a shock of black hair that resembled polished onyx. His eyes were the brightest blue I’d ever seen, and he was wearing a short robe over what looked like satin pajama bottoms. Oho, so Iris and Bruce had made up their spat. I grinned at her, and she grinned back.

“What’s for dinner?” Delilah said, not even noticing our guest.

Roz winked at Iris. “You little minx. You two-timing me?” he said, but he smiled as he waved to Bruce.

Smoky let out a harrumph. “Watch out, Bruce, or this one will try to muscle in on your territory.” He thumbed toward Roz. “If he needs a good thrashing, just let me know. I’m always up for that job.” Though he smiled, there was a look in the dragon’s eyes that told me he wasn’t joking.

The doorbell rang, and Delilah ran to answer it, returning with Chase. I motioned to the table. “Everybody make themselves comfortable. If you want food, raise your hand so Iris can see. We’ve got some things to discuss, and they aren’t very pretty.”

Everyone scrambled for a seat. Smoky and Morio sat next to Camille, while Delilah parked her butt on Chase’s lap. Roz and Bruce were helping Iris pull together the quick spaghetti dinner she’d made, and I took my usual place, hovering slightly out of reach above the table. Vanzir and I were the only ones not eating, and he squatted near Maggie’s playpen. She was nowhere to be seen—no doubt still asleep in Iris’s room.

“Here’s the deal,” I said as they began passing around the platter of spaghetti and the French bread dripping with butter and Parmesan. Out of respect for me, Iris had forgone the garlic except for the barest whiff of it.

“Delilah and I found Sabele’s body. And,” I turned to Chase, “I found out what happened to Claudette. Harold’s gang killed them both, or so it looks.”

“Shit,” Chase muttered, setting down his chunk of bread and reaching for his notebook.

“Eat. You can make notes later,” Iris said, leaning over to tap him on the hand. She and Bruce were sitting on barstools that raised them high enough to the table so they weren’t dwarfed by everyone else. Chase flashed her a smile, put away his pen, and picked up his fork.

We described our jaunt through the underground labyrinth. “Nobody built that complex in just the few years Harold’s been living there,” I said. “It’s a lot older than that. We didn’t have time to check out the rest of it, but I think there has to be a ritual chamber in there. They have to have someplace from which to summon the demons, but I’d like to know a little more before we go in.”

“There’s not much more we can do but just dive in feet-first,” Camille said. “You can bet they aren’t going to have the blueprints for a secret demon-gating chamber at City Hall. But . . . I wonder—Delilah, can you fire up your computer and see if you can find out anything on the house itself? If it’s old, maybe there’s information about who owned it before Harold’s uncle? Something that will tell us who they were and if they were also involved with Dante’s Hellions. Maybe a predecessor of the group?”

Delilah nodded, her mouth full. She’d taken the chair next to Chase as soon as the food was being doled out. One thing he’d learned quickly about Kitten: She was territorial of her food. If she offered to share, no problem, but until she’d made the offer, Camille never snagged a bite off her plate. Chase had learned the hard way, and I’d been there to witness the scratches he received for his trouble before Delilah could stop herself.

“That’s a good idea,” I said. “Chase, can you look into the records to see if any members of Dante’s Hellions other than Harold have been arrested? Their parents, too. Especially their fathers and brothers.”

“I can have that to you by tomorrow night at the latest,” he said.

“Great. The more information we’re armed with, the better.” I thought for a moment. “Vanzir—can you get us in to speak with your demon friend Carter? I want to ask him if he knows about other demons unconnected to Shadow Wing who showed up over the past . . . say . . . one hundred years near Harold’s house. Especially oddball ones.”

He nodded. “I think he’d be willing. You want me to head out now?”

“No, wait till tomorrow.” I frowned. “What else? Are we overlooking anything else?”

“How about a return visit to Harish? If we can pinpoint when Harold started hassling Sabele, maybe that will help? And where did he meet Claudette? The Hellions sure wouldn’t be given an invitation to the Clockwork Club.” Camille sat up. “Chase, while you’re at it, look into any other missing person reports of Fae or Supe women. Or even FBHs who live in the vicinity of Harold’s house. Look back through the files for a number of years. The manacles on the wall do not bode well for the female population.”

I snapped my fingers. “The girl—Larry and Duane were talking about spiking her drink. I wonder if we can trace her down.”

“Probably not, unless someone went missing, but it gives us an idea of how they work. But the vampire—vampires aren’t affected by drugs, and they only drink blood, so how’d they get hold of Claudette?” Chase bit into his bread, wiping the butter from his chin.

“There are ways to control us,” I said. “Silver chains, garlic ropes . . . it can be done.”

Camille let out a sigh. “We’ve got too many questions and not enough answers.”

I glanced at the clock. It was nearing four A.M. Not enough time for me to go out on the prowl, and both Camille and Delilah were looking rough around the edges. “We’ll have to take this up tomorrow. Delilah, even though we chased off the Karsetii, I think you should spend the rest of the night in the panic room—”

“No.” She swallowed the last of her spaghetti and downed a glass of milk. “I’m not going to be locked up like some precious china statue. We have to take a stand somewhere, and I’m making mine here. You wounded it pretty bad. My guess is that the thing will have to regenerate before it comes back.”

Camille cleared her throat. “We can’t make her go.”

We could—or rather, I could—but I wouldn’t. I gave her a quiet nod. “All right, it’s your choice, but sleep lightly.”