Detective Jones pushed to his feet when she entered. He was a nondescript man clad in a dated suit dyed a shade of curry that hadn’t been used for clothing in the last thirty years. His partner, Detective Ingram, stood at the window looking at the city below. His taste in garments was better, but the handlebar mustache he sported set him back a few decades, too.

“Nice view,” Ingram said, eyeing her carefully. “But I was hoping to get a bird’s-eye view of Disneyland.”

She smiled. “There’s a 2.2-square-mile zone around the amusement park that is designated as a resort district. When you’re inside the park, there aren’t any tall buildings to ruin the visitors’ sight lines. They don’t want to ruin the fantasy.”

“Ah, well,” Jones said. “Some of us have to live in the real world.”

Eve moved to her desk and sank into her slim leather chair. “What can I do for you, Detectives?”

Jones glanced at Alec, who stood like a sentinel by the door with his wide-legged stance and crossed arms. The detective seemed prepared to protest Alec’s presence, then he shrugged and sat. The way he moved caught Eve’s attention. His stocky frame didn’t show the stiffness of an older man, like his taller partner’s did. With narrowed eyes she studied him and came to the conclusion that he was far younger than he appeared. She suspected the misconception was by design and she grew even more wary. Jones was a hunter, too, and the information she held was his prey.

He went straight to the point. “Do you have any further information regarding the death of your neighbor, Ms. Hollis?”

Eve shook her head. “If I had anything to share, I would call you. I still have your card.”

“Do you know an Anthony Wynn? He graduated from your high school the year before you. Chinese American. About five foot—”

“Yes. I know him. We attended the same elementary and junior high, too.”

“He’s dead.”

She froze. They had been no more than acquaintances, but she’d partied with him occasionally and thought fondly of him. “When? How?”

“Drowning. Same as the others,” Jones said. “When was the last time you saw him?”

It took her a moment to reply. “A-a few years back. I passed him in a grocery store aisle.”

“So you haven’t kept in touch?”

“No. We weren’t close. The only things I can say about him are that he was quiet at parties and drew really great pictures on napkins.”

Ingram stepped up to her desk, taking one of her business cards from its beveled crystal holder. “You’ve only been with Gadara Enterprises for a short time, is that right?”

“A few months.”

“You were hired just prior to the murder of your neighbor, Mrs. Basso”

“That’s right.” She resisted the urge to look at Alec. Where is this leading?

Not sure yet.

Ingram shoved her card into his pocket, then reached down for a briefcase resting against the leg of Jones’s chair. He pulled out a photo and set it on her desk. It was a picture of one of her business cards surrounded by an L-square ruler. It had the wrinided look that paper took on after it had been soaked with liquid, then air-dried.

Alec approached. He looked at the picture, then at Ingram. “You found this at the crime scene?”

Jones settled back into his chair, his forearms resting casually atop the leather armrests. “Do you have any idea why we would find your business card on the corpse of a man you haven’t seen in years, Ms. Hollis?”

Eve stared at him, dismayed. The Nix was taunting her. “I have no idea.”

Ingram reached into the briefcase again and pulled out an item just as familiar as the last—a photocopy of a sketch artist’s uncanny rendering of the Nix. The detectives had shown the image to her before. A florist had described the customer who frequented her shop to purchase water lilies.

“We want you to look at this again,” Ingram said, holding the image directly in front of her face.

She looked away, disgusted. “I’ve never seen him.”

The mark heated at the lie.

Jones heaved out a frustrated breath. “Look harder, Ms. Hollis. Think harder. He has a German accent. He got his hands on your business card at some point. Did he come here to see you? Did you run into him somewhere?”

“I don’t remember him.” She rubbed at her burning arm. “I sent out letters that included my new business cards to all of my former associates, clients, college classmates, and friends. I mailed at least a thousand announcements about my move to Gadara Enterprises. I also frequently drop them into those fishbowls on restaurant counters, since you never know when you might get a lead.”

“Was Wynn on that mailing list?” Ingram asked. “No. I don’t know where he lives. I told you, I don’t know him that well.”

“He lived on Beacon Street.”

Fear formed a knot in Eve’s gut. That’s next to my parents’ house..

Alec mentally transmitted orders to subordinates with such velocity, she was dizzied by it. Her fingers lifted to her brow and rubbed.

Jones straightened. “Can we get a copy of that list?”

“Of course.” Eve reached for her phone.

“This could be personal.”

The detective’s low-voiced statement stopped her with her arm extended toward the handset. Her gaze met his. “You think this is about me?”

The detective glanced at Alec, then back at her. “This guy stuck around Anaheim for the last nine months. He stepped out of his comfort zone only once that we know of—”

“Mrs. Basso.”

“Your neighbor. Then his next victim is an old acquaintance of yours and your business card is found floating in the punch bowl with the lily. Things like that are rarely coincidences.”

Eve pushed back from her desk and stood, feeling too restless to sit. Jones rose when she did, then resumed his seat.

“What about the other victims?” She looked back and forth between the two detectives. “Did I know them, too? Were they connected to me in some way?”

Was it possible that the Nix had been circling her since before she was marked?

This time it was Jones who reached into the bag of horrors and withdrew a typewritten list of names, birthdates, addresses. She looked the column of information over carefully, wracking her brain.

“None of these names look familiar.”

“We can’t find a connection either,” Ingram said. “Maybe you caught his eye just recently. It could have been something as simple as you cutting him off in traffic. Whatever the reason, we think he’s stepping things up a notch by terrorizing both the victims he kills and you.”

Eve looked at Alec. I want him dead.

He met her gaze. Me, too.

She crossed her arms. “Were all the victims found in their homes?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t worry about me. Nothing unusual has happened in my life recently. Nothing that concerns me or gives me pause. Since Mrs. Basso’s death, our homeowners’ association authorized the hiring of an extra security guard in the building, so now we have two. One roaming, and one at the elevator on the lobby level. You just concentrate on finding this guy before he gets to someone else.”

“It’s our job to worry about you, Ms. Hollis.”

“No, it isn’t.” The last thing she needed was to dodge the police while trying to bounce some bounty hunting demons back to Hell.

“Yes, it is,” Ingram said dryly. “You see, Ms. Hollis. For the present, you’re our strongest lead.”

Jones stood with briefcase in hand. “In other words, get used to seeing us around.”

CHAPTER 7

The detectives have left the building.

“Somehow,” Eve said with a wry curve to her lips, “that doesn’t have the same ring as Elvis’s sign- off.”

Alec sent a brief mental acknowledgment to the Marks monitoring the security feeds, then turned his attention to Eve. He knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, but he hoped she wouldn’t get overly pissy about it. He had too much shit on his plate, in addition to a simmering temper and a pressing need for a long, hard screw.

Being in Gadara Tower only made things worse. He’d always gained strength and power from other Marks, always relished the rush he felt when he entered a firm. But now the Mark in him wasn’t the only thing that recharged. The dark place inside him responded similarly; it had even absorbed power from the infernals loitering around Olivet Place. That the resulting explosion had nearly injured Eve terrified him.

“You have to let me handle this,” he said grimly. “You need to stay home with Montevista and Sydney until we figure out what the hell is going on.”

She gave him the “you’re-smoking-crack” look. “You’re funny.”

“Don’t cross me on this,” he warned, his voice sharper than he intended. He knew a clusterfuck when he saw one and this one had Eve right in the center. As usual.

Her hands went to her hips. “What the hell did I go through training for?”

“Why do you think you have a mentor?” he shot back. “You can’t learn everything you need to know in seven weeks. You’re not up to a fight like this yet, Eve, and I can’t do what needs to be done when I’m worried about you.”

Cain. Sabrael’s voice throbbed through his brain with the unalloyed power of a seraph. You must speak with me.

Alec was physically jolted by the violence with which the darkness inside him recoiled from Sabrael. Not a good time, he snapped.

You owe me. Have you forgotten so quickly?

Have you forgotten that I told you I’d get to you when I get to you?

Eve pressed on, unaware of the silent exchange. “So assign me to another mentor.”

Alec’s first urge was to hit her, which scared the shit out of him. He clasped his hands behind his back. “No.”

“Why not? If you’re too busy to do your job, you should assign me to someone else.”