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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?”
