That sounded more like a plan she could get on board with. “All right, as long as we scope out the place and don’t try to confront her. But we still have to be careful.”

  “Of course,” Clare said.

  Her mother carefully laid out the items and ingredients on the coffee table: a white ceramic bowl half-filled with water, three strands of hair placed in the bowl (she figured they were Mira’s hair strands but declined to ask how or why Clare had them), three yellow candles positioned in a triangle around the bowl, and three satchels filled with powders. After Clare lit the candles, she motioned for Aria to sit opposite her and join hands. The older woman’s nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  “When I squeeze your hand,” she said to Aria, “take that first satchel and empty it into the bowl.”

  “Okay.”

  Clare began an incantation in a language Aria couldn’t make out, though it sounded very close to Latin. Her mother’s voice and intonations were almost musical, and she felt her mother’s magic flow around her and through her.

  Clare squeezed her hand, and she opened the first satchel and poured its contents into the water bowl. On its own, the water began swirling as it mixed with the dark orange powder. Clare pulled her arms inward, crossing them over her chest, eyes still closed.

  “The next one, Aria.”

  She did as she was told, and she emptied the second satchel, filled with a lavender powder, into the bowl. A bright flash escaped the water, and the contents glowed with a soft light. Aria instinctively reached for the final satchel and held it at the ready.

  “Now, Mom?”

  Clare inhaled, the magic forming a faint halo of sparks around her head. “Yes.”

  The last powder was black and went in with a whoosh. Aria shielded her eyes as another flash of light burst from the bowl; the magical energy from the spell felt like standing in front of a hot oven. When she lowered her arms to survey their handiwork, she saw a shimmering line going from the bowl, through the table, across the floor, and out the window.

  Aria gasped. She had known a few witches in her time, but none as talented as Clare. At that moment she felt a pang of envy. Could she have been born a witch like her mother? What would her life have been like? Maybe Mira could’ve turned out differently as well. Aria, without doubt, wouldn’t have been adopted and raised by the sin eaters.

  She rose to her feet and followed the shimmering line toward the window. She lifted the blinds to look out. People down below in the street passed the shimmering line, walked over it, even stood on it, without noticing.

  Clare cleared her throat. “The spell will only be visible to us since we were the ones to cast it. Not even other magic-users can see it unless we will it.”

  Aria nodded, gaze still following the metallic, sleek, shimmering line zipping its way through the street. All they had to do was follow it, and it would lead them to Mira.

  “Remember, we just need to find out where the line stops, then we get Harry.” Aria turned to face her mother. She wasn’t sure if she’d get emotional or try to talk to Mira.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a fool. I know more than anyone what your sister is capable of.”

  Aria gave a firm nod. “Good. Ready to track her?”

  Clare shook her head, her eyes saddened. “In a way, I’m not, because it’ll place us closer to the end, and it’s not going to be a good one for her. I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

  Aria approached and knelt next to her, placing an arm around her and bringing her into a hug. “Me too. But we have to stop her, it’s our responsibility.”

  Her mother nodded. “Mine, most of all. I have so much to atone for.”

  The drive only took twenty minutes. The shimmering line ended at a dilapidated, abandoned house south of downtown, nestled between other homes that also looked like they had seen better days. Aria parked the car across from the house, watching the windows for any sign of Mira’s presence. When she saw a couple of kids playing with a basketball accidentally shatter one of the front windows and scurried down the street, she waited for her sister to step out. Mira didn’t show, though.

  “Mom, I don’t think she’s there.”

  Clare frowned. “We need to look inside.”

  “Hey, remember what we agreed to?”

  “She’s not there, and believe me, that already tells me we have trouble on our hands. At least let’s find out what kind of trouble.”

  “Five minutes. Then we’re out of there.” Aria tried to use her most stern voice. Wasn’t quite working, but she wanted to let Clare know that she was serious.

  “That’s all the time we need. Come on.”

  They got out of the vehicle and crossed the street. Aria cringed as Clare opened the rusty gate that made a loud squeak. As they passed through the front yard with its dead grass, Aria remembered something Harry had taught her when she would ride out with him on some cases. She motioned for Clare to follow her around toward the back.

  “Why are we going this way?” Clare asked.

  “You’d be surprised at how often people forget about backdoors…or not secure them as well as the front.”

  “Hmm. I see.”

  Aria climbed the short steps leading to the back door of the old house. She first reached out with her senses, searching for any wards or magical traps. There was a hastily constructed ward attached to the door, but no traps or curses.

  “Do you feel that?” Aria asked, turning to Clare.

  Her mother nodded and extended her right hand. “I’ll loosen it so we can pass through. If I break it completely, she’ll feel it and know someone’s here.”

  “Good idea.” She stepped aside and watched as Clare’s hand brightened with a soft blue light. Her face was screwed up in concentration. After a few more seconds, her hand fell to her side.

  Aria picked the lock and opened the door. They passed through, without breaking the ward.

  “Oh, God…” Clare clutched her stomach and forced herself not to throw up.

  Aria pressed the back of her hand to her nose and grimaced. The rancid smell hit her nose with a vengeance. As they passed the dimly lit kitchen, they turned into a small hallway to the right and went into the first room.

  Aria shook her head as she took in the grizzly sight. She couldn’t tell what bothered her more, the pile of trash that was being used as a makeshift bed or the dead rats in the corner that had been half-eaten. She reluctantly inhaled, with her hand still against her mouth, and shifted her gaze to a box sitting in the left corner.

  She went over and examined the items in the cardboard box. Some things she found inside were expected—warding crystals, a healing potion, and a few spells written down in a notebook. Then there were things she wouldn’t think to find, such as a blank postcard with a picture of a beach on the other side. Aria felt the faint trace of a protective spell as if its owner wanted to perfectly preserve the postcard image. Clare joined her and knelt next to the box, picking out a pendant necklace and nodding to Aria in confirmation.

  “I gave this to her ten years ago, for her birthday. I…I’m surprised she even kept this. She must hate me and blame me for keeping her locked up and away from the world.”

  “You had no choice,” Aria said. “You were trying to do what you thought best.”

  Aria dug through the box some more and pulled out a few papers. Just some receipts, a spell scribbled down on another sheet, but then on the last piece, she saw a familiar address. Shit.

  “What is it?” Clare asked, reading her expression.

  “This is the address to the LAWT office downtown, where Harry’s brother is. And the vampire.”

  Clare’s mouth fell open. “Why would she have the LAWT address?”

  Aria felt a warning, a fire-hot sensation that ran from the top of her head down to her toes. She instinctively stood and went to peek out the window. Standing outside, surrounding the house, were five vampires. She could tell. They had the same aura, pasty skin, and bloodlust in their eyes as Cedric Astaroth did.

  “No wonder she didn’t bother placing too much energy into this house. She has them watching it for her.”

  Clare rushed toward the window and surveyed the group for herself. “I’ll distract them, and you can run. I’ve fought a vampire or two back in my day.”

  Hell no, she probably didn’t have to face five at once. “I’m not leaving you, Mom.”

  “At least you can make it to Harry. Warn him about Mira.”

  She shook her head. “No, remember what Susan said about hellhounds? They’re the supernatural enemies of vampires.”

  “Are you sure you can control one?”

  “Yes.” Well, that wasn’t a 100-percent yes, but she was moderately confident. She moved away from the window, making sure her mother stood next to her.

  Aria held out her hand, palm facing forward with the S-shaped birthmark pulsating. She concentrated on a portal of light that formed just across from her in the center of the room. She fed into it, calling forth a hellhound. And she prayed it would only be one. Her birthmark burst into flame, just as the five vampires crashed through the window, fangs bared.

  “Aria…” Clare’s voice jumped an octave.

  “Come on,” she said under her breath, as she finally saw the silhouette of a hellhound in the portal. The light faded to gray, and the hound bounded into the room, just as the tallest vampire, a woman, lunged toward Clare. Aria remembered what she had recently learned and communicated with the hellhound through a mind meld.

  Help my mother! Clear the room of these abominations.

  She was beginning to realize why hellhounds hated vampires. The job of the hellhound was to drag the damned to hell. Vamps were the walking damned, still clinging to life and the world of the living—an aberration in the eyes of an agent of the underworld.

  The hellhound seized the vampire woman with its sharp teeth and clamped down on her mid-section. She screeched and fell limp, blood gushing out. The four remaining vampires halted, their eyes widened in fear.

  Aria’s birthmark still blazed with fire as she addressed them. “Want the same to happen to you? Get the hell out of here and leave us alone.”

  They scurried, using their inhuman speed to exit the way they had entered. Aria grabbed her mother’s hand and tip-toed around the pool of blood on the floor. The hellhound let the vampire woman’s body fall to the ground, and it patiently waited as a fine mist rose from the corpse. A flickering image of the woman stood above the body, and the hellhound wasted no time in seizing the vampire’s soul.

  “Nooooo!” She screeched as another portal opened. The hellhound growled and inclined its head toward Aria, almost, as if, in thanks. It fled through the portal with the twisted and bent vampire soul in its mouth.

  “You okay, Mom?” Aria asked.

  Clare nodded, though her face was pale. “We need to go to LAWT.”

  “Yeah, I have a bad feeling about all this, too.”

  If Mira managed to find, and ally herself with vampires, then she must’ve discovered that LAWT had several in custody—including Cedric Astaroth. She hoped the facility was equipped to withstand a vampire raid lead by a Soul Eater because that was what was coming their way.

  11

  Harry

  One Year Ago…

  A sheet of rain fell down that evening, and Harry felt like a dumbass wearing a fedora, but it was better than running around under an umbrella. If he wanted to do that, he might as well have bought a bright red one that screamed: Hey Cedric, Eat Me!

  Even for a vampire, Astaroth was a prick. The only other vampire Harry had come across was secluded and secretive, living off animals near his cabin in the forest. Good for that guy. If Harry were a vampire, he would’ve just drank animal blood or swiped some from a blood bank and kept it moving, enjoying the millionaire lifestyle. Cedric Astaroth, who also went by a few other aliases, depending on what city or country he was in, instead liked to murder people for fun. The world was his playground and people were merely objects in it.

  Harry didn’t usually like to take cases involving vamps, but when his childhood friend, Richard Blake, came to his office, bawling his eyes out and offering his entire life savings for him to find his missing wife who he had last seen going to Cedric for a job interview…well, shit. He took at least five grand and let Richard keep the other sixty. Friend discount. Harry wasn’t afraid to go where cowardly police and bought-off politicians feared to tread.

  Now he sat outside one of Cedric’s beachfront properties in Malibu, watching from his car parked on a rocky hill just above the home. He zoomed in with the enchanted binoculars he had won off a tech wizard in a poker game. He observed everything with clarity and could zoom in even to the point of seeing people’s nose hairs. It was especially easy since the place had floor-to-ceiling windows and the lights were on. People were inside partying and drinking.

  He wondered how many of those dolts knew Cedric would have some of them for dinner.

  His heart nearly skipped a beat when the Vamp in Charge stepped in, greeting a few women and stopping to speak with a skinny, creepy dude named Lawrence. Harry had already dug up dirt on that guy. He was the one who supplied Cedric Astaroth with victims, probably in hopes of being turned into a vampire himself.

  Harry watched as Cedric patted Lawrence on the shoulder before joining an attractive blonde on the couch. When Lawrence pulled something from his pocket, Harry zoomed in again. The man held a gold necklace with a heart pendant attached, and he placed it around the neck of one of the other women standing nearby. He topped it off with a lame ass kiss on her cheek.

  Harry put down the binoculars and grabbed his cell phone. He opened up the photos and studied the most recent picture Richard had given him of his wife, Paula. His stomach ached, and his other hand balled into a fist when Harry saw that exact necklace on Paula. He drove down the winding road, got closer to the property, and parked near some bushes. He climbed—or rather slid in the mud—down to what would be considered the backyard. It was empty, and the patio furniture was all covered because of the rainstorm. He hid next to the barbeque grill. He raised his arm and began snapping discreet pictures with his spy watch, making sure to capture images of the woman wearing Paula’s necklace, with the same intricate engravings like the one in the picture.

  He crouched and held his breath when he saw Lawrence approach the sliding glass door that led to the patio. The other man opened it and yelled over the blaring music that it had finally stopped raining. Cedric seemed unconcerned, as he was busy nibbling on the blonde’s neck, and Lawrence stepped out and made a left over to a shed. He pulled out a key and unlocked the shed door, then went inside. When he emerged, he held a solitary glass of maroon red liquid, and Harry would bet his ass that it wasn’t Merlot.

  Lawrence locked the shed door, skipped back into the house, and handed the drink to a lust-filled Cedric. Harry swallowed hard, knowing that his next step was to see what was inside that shed. Even worse, gruesome images of what he’d find already danced at the edges of his mind, a nightmare he’d probably have to live with.

  He peeked around the barbeque grill and scanned the living room. Cedric was now seated between the blonde and a short-haired brunette. The brunette’s chest rose and fell as she took in deep breaths while Cedric expertly nipped at her inner wrist, breaking the skin just enough to draw blood. It made Harry feel sick to his stomach. The others were either dancing to the music or sitting in the far corner smoking pot. Lawrence was still hamming it up for the lady he had given Paula’s necklace.

  He steadied himself on his heels, then made a run for it, over to the shed and just out of view of anyone who’d happen to look through the glass door. With trembling hands, he pulled out a LAWT Master Key he had swiped from his brother’s toolbox. Yeah, Vern would beat his ass for it, but as long as he returned it ASAP, he’d be forgiven. He hoped.

  He held up the black key fob that had a mini touch screen. He slid the key into the keyhole and watched as the screen on the fob ran some numbers. When the word OPEN flashed on the screen, he turned the key and opened the door to the shed. He quickly slipped in and shut the door behind him, pocketing the Master Key. Instead of a traditional storage shed, there was an empty space—no tables, cabinets, tools, or boxes. However, there was what looked like a basement door sitting at an angle, leading to something else beneath the shed.

  Harry used the Master Key again and opened the second door, slowly walking down the cold concrete steps. He ended up in a large underground room that reminded him of a wine cellar. In fact, there were wine racks filled with bottles, though none of the bottles had labels and were filled with red liquid. There were a few shelves with empty bottles, more wine glasses like the one Lawrence had taken upstairs, and a large slab of a table in the center that reeked of bleach and detergent.

  There was one final door across from him that looked like it led into a separate room. Once again, he used the Master Key. He opened the door, and his stomach violently twisted as he stumbled sideways and vomited. His arms and legs shook as he raised his arm and pressed the recording button on his spy watch.

  Fuck me…

  When he was a boy, he had made the mistake of insisting on watching what his uncle Frank, a butcher, did for a living. He should’ve kept his dumbass mouth shut and enjoyed the free chocolates at the storefront. This was worse than that. This was a slaughter of people—male, female, black, white—Cedric had their broken bodies carved out, torn, and hanging just like a butcher would his cattle.

  He hated crying, especially in front of other people, but tears stung his eyes and fell when he saw Paula’s decapitated head sitting on a silver tray on the counter. She had gone into the lion’s den expecting a job interview, and what she got was killed and put on a bastard vamp’s menu. He took a picture of what was left of her.