I nodded. “Okay!”

We roared toward the lakeshore and along the bluff above Lake Michigan. Today it was windy and there were whitecaps, long, rolling breakers curling toward the shore. It would be a good day for bodysurfing. I felt a burst of nostalgia, yearning for the sun-kissed days of childhood, when Mom would take me to the beach on her day off and I’d spend the entire day building sandcastles and frolicking in the waves, my only concern making sure I kept my tail securely tucked in my bikini bottom. The arching canopies of the grand old trees lining Lakeshore Drive made it seem like we were driving through a green tunnel. Johnny drove with impressive competence, weaving around joggers and dog walkers. We passed Lurine’s gated driveway and kept going.

A half mile later, Johnny pulled into a long driveway leading to a McMansion nestled in the woods, parking alongside five or six additional motorcycles.

Call me dense, but that was about the time my tail started twitching with suspicion.

I scrambled off the back of the bike, unbuckled my helmet, and hung it on the sissy bar. “Awfully nice place Rafe has here.”

“You think a ghoul can’t have nice things?” Johnny asked in a mild tone, taking off his own helmet. “Can’t live in a nice house?”

I took a few wary steps backward. “Nooo . . .”

He beckoned. “Come on; it’ll just be a moment.”

Two things caught my eye. The first was the most beautiful motorcycle I’d ever seen, with a teardrop-shaped tank painted a deep, glossy red. Cody had identified it as a 1940s Indian Chief.

The second was a stone placard hung beside the front door of the McMansion announcing it to be the residence of the Locksley family, complete with a faux-heraldic crest with a Latin motto and pair of crossed arrows on prominent display. Yeah, crossed arrows—the missing piece of the puzzle from my mom’s reading. Las Jaras, the destination.

Oh, crap.

Johnny’s pupils dilated a split second before I bolted, and he was on me before I’d gotten ten steps toward the road, tackling me, his greater weight bringing me down. I hit the driveway hard, banging my chin and seeing stars. He rolled me over effortlessly, straddling my waist and pinning my arms with his knees. I fought a surge of pure panic, channeling it into fury.

“Whatever happened to being Stefan’s trusted lieutenant?” I spat at him.

Johnny inhaled deeply and grinned down at me, his pupils wide and black. “What can I say? I’m afraid I had a change of heart. Got an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He cracked his knuckles and drew back one fist. “Sorry about this, ma’am.”

His fist crashed down against my temple.

And everything went black.

Thirty-seven

My consciousness filtered back slowly. All I knew at first was that my head ached fiercely, and I felt sick and dizzy. Disoriented, I opened my eyes and tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

Water, murky and greenish. Huh. It didn’t feel like I was underwater. I took an experimental breath. Yeah, that worked. Okay, so I definitely wasn’t underwater.

A woman’s face swam into view inches from mine, gray-green and eerie, dark hair swirling around her head, pale translucent membranes over her eyes.

“Gah!” My body convulsed in a futile attempt to scramble backward, which was when I realized I was lying on my side, my hands tied behind my back, my ankles bound together. With an effort, I levered myself to a sitting position.

“She’s awake,” a man’s voice said with the same relish you might use to announce that dinner was ready.

Focusing, I made out the figure of Al the Walrus, his eyes glittering in the dim light. Oh, crap didn’t even begin to sum it up.

“Leave her be for now, you greedy bastard,” a laconic voice retorted. Jerry Dunham thumped the top of what I now realized was an enormous aquarium tank. “You need to feed, feed on good old Rosie here.”

“Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies!” a woman’s voice sang dreamily. The infanticidal ghoul Mary Sudbury stooped before me, pupils enormous in her blue eyes. She’d died young, pretty, and insane. “Can’t I have just a taste?” she crooned. “I’m ever so tired of mermaid. Her despair’s gone all stale.”

“No. Get off her.” Dunham gave Mary a ruthless shove.

“Hey, man!” another ghoul protested, tall and whippet-thin. Ray D, I presumed. “You don’t treat her like that.”

“Or what?” Dunham calmly pulled a pistol from the waistband of his jeans.

Ray D laughed and spread his arms. “Go ahead, shoot.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna shoot you.” Dunham shifted his stance and aimed the gun at my head. My mind went blank with terror. “First I shoot the girl; then I shoot the fish, and you ravening motherfuckers can starve.”

Across the room came the sound of a shotgun being pumped. “Do it and I blow your head off, Dunham,” Johnny said. “And there’s no coming back for you. Stick with the plan.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, you dumb hillbilly.” Jerry Dunham turned to face him with a sociopath’s utter lack of fear. “You promised me you could keep your ghouls under control long enough.”

Johnny gritted his teeth, his pupils waxing and waning. “And I will. No feeding on the girl,” he warned them. “Not until this is over.”

“Oh, but she’s so scared,” Mary Sudbury crooned, circling back to stroke my cheek. “Poor little thing.” A shadow crossed her face. “I bet your mommy’s going to miss you ever so much.”

“Get off her, Mary,” Dunham said again. “I’m not gonna tell you a third time.”

She pouted. “Just a taste?”

“Not until it’s over.” Johnny gestured with the shotgun. “Ray, pull her off.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” The tall, thin ghoul took Mary by the shoulders, easing her gently backward. “It won’t be long.” He grinned at me, baring discolored teeth. “And when it’s over, we’ll have a feast.”

Licking my dry lips, I found my voice. It sounded shaky. “Was that the offer you couldn’t refuse?” I asked Johnny.

He shook his head. “You’re just the icing on the cake. Dunham, you ready to try again? I can’t touch it.”

“Yeah, I’ll have another go.” Jerry Dunham shoved the pistol back into his waistband, flexing his hand. There was a bandanna wrapped around it. “Fuck, that fucking hurt. Luke, you got that welding glove for me?”

A ghoul I didn’t recognize tossed it to him. I shrank back at Dunham’s approach, finding a wall behind me. In the tank beside me, the mermaid pressed her webbed hands against the glass in a gesture of sympathy.

“Quit your cowering,” Dunham said to me with disdain. “I’m not interested in you.” Reaching down with his gloved hand, he yanked dauda-dagr from its sheath. Within seconds, he was grimacing. “Motherfucker, that’s cold!”

“Can you hold it long enough to do the job?” Johnny asked him.

“Oh, yeah.” Dunham dropped the dagger on the top of the bar and shook out his hand. “I reckon I might lose a few more layers of skin. But for Mister High Lord Muckety-Muck, I’ll manage.”

I swallowed. “You’re after Stefan, aren’t you?”

He turned his flat gaze on me. “Give the little girl a cookie.”

“Why?” I asked him. “It seems like an awfully big risk to take.”

Jerry Dunham peeled off his welding glove and shrugged. “Well, now, Johnny here’s looking to stage a coup and take over in Pemkowet. His accomplices want to go back to doing what ghouls do best, and make other people’s lives miserable.” He nodded at Ray D and Mary Sudbury, the latter wrapped in the former’s arms. “Them two lovebirds just want to be left alone, only they need a source, and I reckon you’ll do for a while, since poor old Rosie’s gettin’ tapped out. And as for me . . .” He cocked his head and looked thoughtful. “You know what, blondie? I just really don’t like the guy.”

“And that’s enough?” I whispered.

Dunham flexed his hand again, contemplating it. “Sometimes you just gotta let the world burn.”

Let the world burn. . . .

The words echoed in my ears, evoking yesterday’s vision: the lake of fire, the bat wings, the fiery whip.

I shivered. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know what you could unleash.”

His mouth curled. “I heard the rumors. You gonna call your daddy, blondie? Risk unleashing hell on earth?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home,” Mary sang, swaying back and forth in Ray’s arms. “Your house is on fire, and your children are all . . . Oh.” Her voice fell silent.

A wave of despair washed over me, fresh and tasty, by the way the ghouls responded. Al the Walrus groaned with pleasure. It was a disgusting feeling.

“Simmer down!” Dunham said sharply. “Whatever she’s broadcasting, we need it out there loud and clear, long enough for Ludovic to home in on it.”

“Could be a while.” There was a sheen of sweat on Johnny’s face. “It don’t exactly work like a GPS, you know.”

“We’ll wait as long as it takes.” Dunham strode across the room and banged on the side of the aquarium. “Come on, old gal! Muster up a bit of anguish.” Stooping, he picked up an extension cord with a frayed end. “Shall I give you a little jolt?”

The mermaid’s face contorted with fear and she shook her head, hair waving like seaweed.

The ghouls sighed with satisfaction.

Dunham dropped the cord. “That’ll do you for now.”

Oh, God. I was alone in a house full of ghouls and a captive mermaid, serving as bait for a trap to lure in Stefan. Too late to try to rein in my emotions now; I’d already loosed a bolt of sheer terror he couldn’t have missed. I’d sent the police on a wild-goose chase. The Oak King’s token was back home in my jewelry box. I’d lost dauda-dagr, an incredibly dangerous and valuable weapon, to a freaking sociopath. Apparently whatever ancient Norse magic had created a dagger only Hel’s chosen could wield hadn’t taken Kevlar welding gloves into account. I pulled my knees to my chest, bowing my head against them.