With level three, came more serious territory, where the lightest of the fetish bars began to show, along with some brothels, and other, less savory, shops. Level four wasn’t safe for humans, or anybody the vamps, gangs, and mobsters hadn’t welcomed in. And level five was vampire-only, intrude at your own risk.

  “Level three…we’ll be okay. Though I’m surprised a demon chose that level instead of a lower one. Most demons who live here aren’t likely to go window-shopping with grandma, you know.” A tingle in my stomach told me I was nervous, though I didn’t want to focus on it. The more I let my nerves get to me, the more mistakes I made.

  As we paid the entrance fee and took the stairs down into the first level, the foot traffic was mild. It would pick up later in the evening, and I found myself relieved that we had arrived in the afternoon. I wanted to be out of the Underground by seven, if possible. It would be good to see Lazenti, though. We hadn’t met up face-to-face for awhile. He couldn’t come above ground in the daytime.

  The moment we entered the Underground, the mood shifted. I brought up my shields and let my instincts guide me.

  The Underground was mostly made up of dark metal, cool lights, and over the top embellishment. The top two floors were for show, mostly, with shops displaying bay windows with bright displays. Lower down, the décor was darker, and the shops more secretive.

  We came to the elevator—it was generally safer than the stairs—and punched the button.

  “Okay, let’s go see what this demon has to say,” I said as I stepped into the car.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The third level down felt eerie as we navigated through the corridors.

  “What bar are we looking for again?” I asked.

  “The Crimson Rose.”

  I straightened my shoulders. Down here, it paid to exude confidence. Cockiness, no, but confidence went a long way in keeping others from bothering you. I started winding through the labyrinth of passages, navigating by the series of numbers and letters used to designate where various shops were located. Addresses consisted of the number of the level, direction, and then a complicated set of coordinates. The Crimson Rose was L3NE42-B.

  Groups of people passed by, giving us a once over. A number were vamps, most decked out in leather or garments that looked like they were from another era—smoking jackets and corset-cinched brocade dresses that swept to the floor. I could tell they were vamps because, in the low light, the crimson rings around their irises shimmered like gleaming foil. But among the fangster-set, we also saw goblins, a few shifters, several humans, and a few other creatures that I didn’t recognize.

  Dante pressed closer to me and wrapped his arm through my elbow. “Better to make sure we appear together, rather than anybody getting any ideas.”

  I glanced at him, smiling. I was stronger than he was—at least when my demon was out—and more lethal, but I appreciated the gesture.

  “It’s pretty dark in here, isn’t it?” I wasn’t talking about the dim level of the lights.

  “It is,” he said. “I’ve been in the Underground a number of times, but seldom on this level. And when I was down here, I didn’t stay long and I was with a group of friends.”

  We approached a corner and I consulted my directions. “We turn left here. The bar should be about half a block down this street. There’s an elevator near it, so we can leave that way.”

  “There it is,” Dante said, pointing ahead.

  In the flickering light—which reminded me of old fashioned gas lamps instead of the warm LED lights that the Underground used—the Crimson Rose was straight ahead, on the right side of the passage. The front was sleek black metal, polished so high that it shimmered.

  No windows offered a look inside the bar, but a beautiful stained glass sign the length of the bar adorned the top of the wall, illuminated from within. A spray of red roses coiled out from the center of the window, swirling with vines and leaves. Whoever had created it was a talented artist. The design was deceptively simple, elegant and understated. Yet when I looked closer, I could see the metalwork running through it, sectioning off each petal, stem, and thorn, creating an intricate thread of outlines.

  “That’s gorgeous,” I said, pointing to the sign.

  “Yeah, it took money to have someone make that,” Dante added.

  We stood in front of the bar for a moment, then—taking a deep breath—I opened one of the heavy double doors and entered, with Dante right behind me.

  At the front, inside of the bar, stood a hostess station. Behind the station, booths lined both sides of the bar. The bar stretched across the back, and tables were scattered across the middle of the floor. Doors to the left and right of the bar led to what I assumed was the kitchen, given this was a bar and grill, not just a bar for drinks.

  Several tables were occupied, and a few of the booths. I glanced around. Lazenti waved us over to a booth near the door. A vampire, he had once been a private eye, and now he worked for us. He was gorgeous—more so than any man had the right to be—in that dark, glam mobster way. Trim but muscled, he wore a tailored crimson suit jacket over a black shirt, with a black and white plaid tie. His jeans were black and expensive, his motorcycle boots—polished black. He had pulled his dark, wavy hair back into a smooth ponytail.

  Lazenti stood as we approached and removed the wraparound shades he’d been wearing to reveal pale eyes—almost frost white, with rings of crimson around the irises.

  “Kyann, Dante, thank you for meeting with me,” he said, motioning to the booth.

  Dante slid in, then I followed. Lazenti returned to the other side.

  “Thanks for calling. Is the demon still here?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Then, with barely the nod of his head, he gestured to a booth across the room.

  I glanced, following his lead. Sure enough, there was a man in the center booth. From here, in the dim light, it was difficult to see what he looked like. But the moment I caught sight of him, something inside woke up. I recognized him—his energy, his nature. A shiver raced down my spine, and I caught my breath.

  Like recognizes like…My people…he belongs to my people.

  I’d never met another demon before, at least anyone but Devon, and this man was of my blood. The feeling was strange—and until now, I never realized that I’d felt so incredibly alone on a gut, cellular level. I loved all my friends, but I was different.

  “You’re staring,” Dante whispered, poking me in the ribs.

  Startled, I shook my head and turned back to Lazenti. “He didn’t give you his name, right?”

  “Right. Well, do you want to talk to him?”

  “I want to know what he was doing at Edward Trask’s house,” I said. “I’m going over. Cover me.” I stood, motioning for Dante and Lazenti to follow me. As we crossed the room, I kept my gaze glued on the demon.

  He looked up as we neared his table. His eyes flashed, mirroring mine in color, and his hair shifted, gleaming lilac and dark violet, but it reminded me of my own in its gradient shades. It was long, like mine, and coiled down his shoulders and back in silky strands. He watched us approach, still silent, his glass in hand. Dressed in black leather—pants and jacket—he looked muscled from what I could tell, and tall.

  I neared the booth and stopped, staring at him. Dante and Lazenti stopped a few paces behind me. The demon waited, still silent. I felt him reaching out—as though invisible antennae were tracing my aura, tickling me with questions. Whoever spoke first would secede power to the other. That much I knew. And I was also aware that no way would he be the first to capitulate. I decided to toss out the bait and see if he’d bite.

  “What brings you over to this side of the tracks?” I asked, jamming my hands in my pockets.

  He didn’t answer at first, then glanced at Lazenti. “I know you—I talked to you the other day.” It wasn’t a question. Then, without missing a beat, he turned back to me. “Not many of our kind over here, are there? Although…you’re half-blood.”

  I shrugged, then said, “You visited a man named Edward Trask. I need to know why.” Then, realizing he wasn’t about to answer without me offering him a little more, I added, “I’m Kyann Sarasan, and yes, I’m half Arosien.”

  The demon showed the first sign of startlement. He straightened. “Your name is Sarasan?”

  I nodded. “Why?”

  After a moment, he motioned to the seat opposite him. “Sit. Your friends can sit too, if they want.” With a sniff, he said, “Wolf shifter and…of course, vampire. I trust you knew I was here due to your fanged friend?”

  “Not many Arosiens make their way over here,” I said.

  “Not many, no. Not often. There are a few who live here permanently. Like you do,” he added.

  I had the oddest feeling that he knew more about me than I did about him. “How do you know I live here? And why were you looking up Edward Trask?”

  “I just know. How do you know about Trask?” He shifted, sipping his drink. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, raising his arm and snapping his fingers.

  I raised my eyebrows. He was arrogant, but I had the suspicion he had the goods to back it up. I glanced at Dante. “Should I?” I asked, hoping Dante would know what I was asking.

  He read my face. Finally, he nodded. “You might as well.”

  Turning back to the demon, I said, “Your name and I’ll tell you why I’m asking.”

  The demon considered my bargaining chip. Finally, he said, “All right. I’m Vaurice. And you’re right, I’m not from here.”

  It felt like we were playing chess, or putting together a puzzle, each reluctantly revealing one piece at a time. I took a deep breath. “Thank you. The reason I care why you were talking to Edward Trask is because his brother was a serial killer, and he killed my mother.”

  At that, Vaurice let out a long breath. He set down his glass. “Her name was Erin Sarasan, correct?”

  I froze, not sure what to say. After a moment, I nodded. “Yes, it was.” I wasn’t about to tell a strange demon what her real name was.

  “I was sent her to find her, and any children she may have had. My journey led me to Trask, to ask him about the woman his brother killed.” He leaned forward. “And it seems, I’ve succeeded in my task.”

  I could barely breathe. “Who sent you? Why are you looking for me?”

  He paused, then, after a moment, he said, “We’re fastidious in keeping accurate rolls of our people. If I need to get in touch with you, is there a number at which I can reach you?”

  He already had my name, so I handed him a business card. I had the feeling he had only told me a fraction of the truth, but I also had the feeling I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him tonight. “Do you have a number I can reach you at?” I asked.

  He jotted down a number on the back of a napkin and handed it to me. “You can leave a message there and I’ll get it within a day or two. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Don’t try to follow me. You won’t manage it.”

  Vaurice slid out of the seat and tossed a hundred dollar bill on the table. “Drinks are on me. I’ll be in touch.” And, without another word, he turned and strode out of the bar.

  I stared at the number, then typed it into the contacts section on my phone, along with Vaurice’s name. “Well…your instincts were spot on,” I said, turning to Lazenti. He slid out and moved to the other side, now that the demon was gone. “I’m glad you followed him.”

  Unsure of what else to say, I paused as the waitress came over. I handed her the hundred. “I’ll have a rum and Coke,” I said.

  “Diet Coke for me,” Dante said. “I’m driving.”

  Lazenti ordered a bourbon and soda. “How do you think they knew about you?”

  I shrugged. “I can think of one way, except that my mother never told my father she was pregnant. At least, I don’t think so. I can’t be sure of anything right now.”

  “He couldn’t be your father, could he? Though, you two look the same age,” Lazenti said.

  I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so. Besides, my mother said my father had the same color hair as me. And she described him as burly and this guy…Vaurice…isn’t a burly man.”

  We sat quietly, drinking, while I tried to stop the whir of my brain. His story about it being for the rolls of the Arosien Clan was bullshit. I knew that, and he had to know that I knew. I’d be leaving a message as soon as I got home.

  “What next?” Lazenti asked.

  I shrugged. “I guess I just leave him a message and we work on the missing homeless cases. There isn’t much else I can do. Unless I go visit Edward Trask myself.”

  “Don’t do it,” Dante warned. “That’s a bad idea. I’m afraid Edward Trask might end up on a slab, if you do.” He gave me a dark look. “You know yourself. You know visiting him might trigger your inner demon.”

  I murmured an assent, but I really didn’t feel like making any promises. “Fine, we’ll leave it alone.” I couldn’t break a promise I hadn’t made. “I suppose we’d better get going,” I said.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay for awhile?” Lazenti asked.

  I smiled. “No, I think we’d better go.”

  We said our farewells and headed toward the nearest exit. By the time we were back above ground and at our car, I had made up my mind. I was going to visit Edward Trask. I didn’t want Dante to know, so I decided to return later, when I was alone.

  Benny was waiting when we got back at the office. Surprised to see him, I motioned for him to follow me back to the breakroom.

  “What’s up?”

  “Hey, Legs. A little monkey wrench in the works,” he said. “I’ve been nosing around the Soldiers of Misfortune encampment and I met someone there who knew Greg. The guy’s a complete loon, he’s always strung out, but he insists that he saw Greg walking into the shadows with…” He paused, looking uncomfortable.

  “Out with it—just tell me what he saw.” I never automatically discounted accounts if the person was high or drunk or a little off beam. Of course, I examined the information thoroughly before accepting it as accurate. Sometimes, things were exactly as they appeared, even if the witness was janked up on some crocoe or albotain.

  “He said that two aliens forced Greg to go with them into an alley. And he said that, a moment later, a bright light flashed so bright it blinded him. After he opened his eyes, the three of them were gone.” Benny gave me a half-shrug. “I thought you should know.”

  “Thanks, Benny. I’m glad you’re still out there, poking around. We can use all the help we can get,” I said. Sometimes too many cops spoiled the evidence, but right now we were running on empty and at least it was a lead.

  “Do you think they are?”

  “Are what?” I asked.

  “Aliens. The guys who captured Greg?”

  Benny was playing with a couple of the pencils from the pencil box on the table.

  I reached out and took them from him, tossing them back in their box again. Then, I leaned back and thought about what had happened. “Where did you hear this?”

  “In a bar—there’s a dive right off the freeway, before you come to the encampment. I’ve been asking around ever since Greg vanished. I never had any luck there before, and I was just about to give up on the joint when I ran into the guy today.” He shrugged.

  “Who was the guy? You said he was a crackhead?”

  “No, but he’s strung out on just about everything else. But Legs, there’s something about the way he described what he saw. He sounded almost lucid.” Benny leaned forward. “Now, I dunno if I believe the part about aliens, but I believe he saw something.”

  I thought it over for a few minutes. “Did you get a name?”

  Benny pulled out a piece of paper and tossed it on the table. “His name’s Winston. I don’t know his last name, and I don’t even think he knows his last name anymore. But he’s been hanging out at the Crock & Drop—that’s the name of the bar—and he said he’d be there later tonight. Will you go with me?”

  “The Crock & Drop?” I asked.

  “I know—it’s a stupid name. The place is falling apart. But they serve cheap booze and it’s a warm place to go when the weather gets rough.” Benny gave me a puppy-dog look. “Please?”

  I had planned on showing up at Edward Trask’s house tonight, but Benny looked so hopeful that I couldn’t say no.

  “All right.” I glanced at the clock. It was five-fifteen. “Let me close up shop and we’ll head out there. You can ride with me.”

  Relieved, the goblin dropped back in his seat. “Thanks,” he said. “I knew you’d come through for me.”

  I stood. “I’m going to wrap up a few things. You stay here. Feel free to grab a bite out of the fridge, if you’re hungry.” Benny always looked hungry—he was always in debt and he never had money for a good meal.

  “Sure thing,” he said. “Thanks, Kyann.”

  When he used my name, I knew he truly meant it. I headed back to my office to turn off my computer and leave notes with Sophia for the day. But Benny’s story stuck in my mind. What if we were dealing with some sort of alien? The story “How To Serve Man” stuck in my head, and then all I could picture was a line of people, filing into spaceships, on their way to the slaughterhouse.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Crock & Drop looked about as classy as it sounded. Along the way, Benny told me that a weasel shifter owned it. The guy was named Nathan, but he went by Gort. I couldn’t quite get the connection between the name and the nickname, but Benny assured me there was one. Anyway, the dive was a real hole-in-the-road, and it would never be anything else. But it filled a need, apparently.

  As I parked in the lot—as close to the brightest street light that I could—there were only a handful of other cars lined up outside. I took a moment as we stepped out of my car to pause and feel out the energy. It felt like alleyways and dark nights, switchblades and gravelly lots with weeds growing out of the cracks in the concrete. I dropped my hand down to the blade strapped to my thigh, wanting to be prepared.