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At nine-thirty, Jeremy checked in. Botnick--who lived alone--had eaten, and was now in front of the television. As it looked likely he was home for the duration, Jeremy decided it was a good opportunity to take a closer look at his store. He asked me to pass him to Hope.
At his request, she zoomed in on an aerial photograph of Botnick's shop, then relayed its layout and potential entry points.
"So you're doing a little B & E?" she said. "Too bad Karl's in Massachusetts."
She paused.
"Ah, Arizona this week, is it? Glad someone knows where that man is. If you need him, though, you tell him to haul his ass over here. Whatever job he's pulling, he doesn't need the money and this is more important." She tapped at her keyboard. "Speaking of help, could you use ours? We can be there in--"
She paused. "No, I understand, but I could help. Karl's taught me a few things about casing a place--strictly for information, of course--and I'm sure the extra eyes would come in handy."
Another pause. She nibbled her lip, eyes down as she listened.
"I know, but I'd love to help, risks or no risks. Hey, if things do go wrong, I'll even take the fall for you. I'm an ambitious tabloid reporter--no one's going to question why I'm breaking into a place like that. Plus, it's experience, right? If I'm helping the council, I need to build up my arsenal of skills, legal and otherwise."
There was a note of puppyish pleading in her voice. She reminded me of Paige--always in the thick of things, taking any risk to help others. Frustrated from hours of research, I found myself sharing her enthusiasm, even seconding it loud enough for Jeremy to overhear.
After a moment, she grinned at me, flashed a thumbs-up, then handed back my phone. "He wants us to meet him in the lot behind the shop in ninety minutes. That'll give him time to find a way in first."
She turned back to her computer, continuing down the list.
"So Karl Marsten is giving you break-and-enter tips?"
"Against his will. He doesn't like me doing stuff like that. But we have an agreement. He teaches me B & E and I cook for him. You know werewolves." She grinned. "Feed them well and feed them often, and you can win any argument."
I wished it were that easy with Jeremy. For him, food was just fuel. Which was okay with me, because cooking--like most domestic skills--wasn't one of my strong points.
"So I guess you and Karl are together?"
"Nah. Just friends." She printed off a page. "That's strange enough. I'm a half-demon with delusions of crime fighting. He's a werewolf jewel thief. Logically, we shouldn't be able to stand one another. But as a friendship, it works." She hit "print" again, then pushed back her chair. "Okay, let's see what we've got."
WE WERE eyeing the clock when Hope's cell phone rang. As she glanced at the display, she cursed under her breath, hesitated, then seemed to think better of it and answered. A string of "uh-huhs" followed, her shoulders slumping with each one.
After listening to the caller for at least thirty seconds, she said, "Could this wait until morning? I'm hot on a trail tonight--"
Pause.
"It's still in the early stages, but it's about ritual magic--"
Pause.
"I know we covered that new Voodoo club opening last month, but this is different--"
Pause. She closed her eyes, sighing softly.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure a 'Bigfoot in L.A.' story doesn't come along all that often but--"
Pause. A deeper sigh.
"Okay, I'm on it."
When she hung up, I said, "Bigfoot?"
"Apparently he's been spotted cutting through an
alley near a nightclub."
I paused. "I hate to break it to you, but it's probably--"
