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Zee hadn’t noticed Elion’s arrival, more focused on Claymore and trying to pry every tiny bit of prison gossip out of him.

“Adam Vex . . . Victor Reynard.” Elion acknowledged us with a nod.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Ah, no. I am here in an official capacity.” That didn’t sound good. “Tell me, either of you, would you have any information regarding an attempted jewelry heist near Union Square last night?”

I blinked innocent human eyes. “Wow, I mean . . . we’re tight for money but not that tight, right Victor?” A laugh squeaked out of me.

Victor’s lips pulled into a tight, fang-revealing smile. “Indeed.”

Elion nodded along, agreeing, or so I thought, until they looked up again. “We have some footage from the scene. I downloaded it before entering your vastly overextended wards. I hope you do not mind humoring me by taking a look?”

“The wards are uhm . . . That’s not . . . We’re going to fix that . . . A total accident. And we were here all night, so I don’t . . . think . . . we . . . I mean, I don’t really do jewelry. Victor, do you wear jewelry?”

“No.”

“So we’re not really likely to have been uhm . . . in or near a jewelry⁠—”

Elion held up their phone, showing footage clearly taken from a camera inside Agatha’s store. It showed a demon with a broken wing, wearing a leather mask and rummaging through every cupboard in chaotic-raccoon fashion.

“Oh.” I pinched my lips together. “I mean, that could be any demon.”

“That is what I told my superiors,” Elion said. “You see, they didn’t receive the accompanying evidence, such as this sound file.” Elion tapped the screen and audio sounded.

“Oh, hello locked drawer,” Zee’s disembodied voice said again. “Abraca-fuck-yah.”

“Nope. Doesn’t sound like him.” It sounded exactly like Zee. The audio was really good. Agatha had some top-shelf recording equipment in that store, which Victor would have seen had he been the one carrying out the heist. Unfortunately, Zee was the only one of us who could translocate inside, though. “I’m not hearing the resemblance,” I added.

“How about this snippet?” Elion suggested, tapping the screen again.

“Fuck—ooh baby, look at you. Come to Uncle Zee.”

Oh dear. My smile froze. “Zee is a really common demon name. It’s short for . . . uhm . . . Zebedee?”

“Also possible. However.” They reached inside their long coat. I tensed, expecting to see cuffs, but instead they brought out a rectangular pole thing about the size of a phone. “The store was equipped with various security measures.”

Elion strode toward the end of the bar where Zee was simultaneously trying to welcome Claymore while also pretending he wasn’t listening in. At Elion’s approach, Zee casually leaned against the bar as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Unfortunately, his innocent expression also resembled his guilty face.

“One of those measures is a particular ink that shows up under black light even after it’s been washed off.” Elion raised the stick and flicked a switch, bathing Zee in a strange blue light. A light that made every single speckle and spot of ink glow on his exposed skin—around his tiny vest, his neck, and his wrists where the gloves hadn’t reached.

Zee looked down at himself, hesitated a beat, then said, “Betrayed by my washboard abs.”

Elion switched off the black-light stick and eased their tall frame onto a barstool between Zee and Victor, clearly getting comfortable. “Before you claim it was only Zodiac, your handprints are all over the window, Adam, and it really doesn’t take a detective to assume the third member wearing an interesting mask was Victor Reynard.”

Victor continued to sip his Bloody Bitch, thinking. All the joy of Claymore’s return had deflated out of Zee, leaving him slumped at the bar. Our future prospects were not looking good.

Zee suggested Claymore should make himself at home, probably fearing we were all about to be arrested again.

As Claymore left, Tom eyed Elion, probably wondering whether to grab the shotgun.

What if we killed Elion and stuffed his remains up a chimney? Hm, his assassin partner, Delores, would come hunting. The SSD may notice his absence too . . .

I scratched the back of my neck. “Look, it’s . . . There’s . . . this thing . . . Uhm . . . So . . .”

“Adam,” Elion sighed. “I have been doing my own investigation of late, collecting what I can at various chaotic crime scenes—such as a home invasion at Princess Daisy’s estate during which several vampires were maimed.”

Victor cleared his throat and turned toward the agent. “What Adam is trying to say is that while your assistance has been useful in the past, it’s time you left. And should you continue your investigation we will find you, your immediate and extended family, and torture them over many days, weeks, and months, until you cease your investigations into us and this hotel.”