The tone of her voice made me look up. “Oh?” Penn never made mention of ‘meeting someone’ in the way that made me think there was a spark of interest there.

  “Yeah…he’s a TA at the academy.”

  Penn’s classes were at Windchime Magical Academy, a local academy for witches. While the academy focused on first through twelfth grades, it also offered adult community classes. The campus was built on five gorgeous acres. And I’d had more dealings with them in the past year than I had my entire life.

  She stared at her plate. “His name’s Salvatore, but he goes by Salva. He’s an artist. He’s also the teacher’s assistant for an art class. We had coffee after class let out and…” She paled. “There’s something about him that I can’t get out of my mind. I’ve talked to him before and each time, there seemed to be some sort of chemistry there, but tonight…tonight we…”

  “You zinged?” We’d just watched the Hotel Transylvania franchise a couple weeks ago.

  Penn nodded. “We zinged. At least I did. And that frightens me.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never met anyone who has captivated me as much as he does. I’m afraid that I’ll like him too much. I’ve rejected a lot of men. I always try to be gracious, I try to make sure they know it’s me, not them. Though a few, trust me, were assholes. But what I’m saying is that I haven’t been a jerk about it. I always let them down easy. But what do I do if I fall for this guy and then he drops me?”

  I put down my fork and knife. “Penn, if you fall for him and he drops you, you’ll live. If you fall for him and he falls for you, then yay. If you fall for him and then decide you aren’t interested, he’ll live. But if you never do anything about your feelings, then you’re letting fear rule your life.”

  “I don’t want that,” she said. “I’ve had my fill of being afraid. After the mess with the kidnapping, I pulled back. I think I was in a bout of PTSD. But I’m tired of dimming my shine, if you know what I mean?”

  “I know,” I said. I leaned my elbows on the table and gave her a soft smile. “Penn, you don’t have to be afraid of karma—or whatever you want to call it. You’re not a bad person. Just because somebody likes you, you aren’t obligated to say yes to them. And because you’ve put off a lot of guys, it doesn’t make you a bad person. It means you weren’t interested in them and you didn’t want to lead them on.”

  “When you put it that way, I feel better,” she said. “I never want to give anybody hope when I know it’s not going to happen.”

  “What’s so special about Salva, do you think?” If Penn found herself intrigued by a guy, he had to have one hell of a lot going for him.

  She paused, then shook her head. “I don’t know, to be honest. We talked for an hour and I can’t even remember what we said. The time flew by. He only left because he had to meet with his professor to talk over the lesson plan.” After a moment, she added, “If he asks me out, I’ll sayseeeee yes.”

  “I hope it works out for the best—regardless of what that outcome is. I think you owe it to yourself to explore this. You felt something for him, and that happens so rarely that you need to pay attention to it.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” She gave me a hopeful look. Penn was so self-confident that it almost hurt watching her enter awkward territory. But if I pushed her a little bit now, she’d be able to shake off the indecision.

  “If he asks, go. Or ask him out. If it’s bad, you can always leave, but you can’t take it any further if you don’t give it a chance in the first place.” I reached across the table as she moved to carry her plate into the kitchen. “I’ll clean up. It’s my turn, and you cooked us such a wonderful dinner.” I shooed her off to the living room while I cleared the table and rinsed the dishes, stacking them in the dishwasher.

  After dinner, we settled in front of the TV, along with a deck of cards. We played an old card game—Canasta—and watched a comedy period piece. Chatting about nothing in particular, we managed a quiet evening, which was a rare and precious gift.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Penn came with me to work, since we were heading out to examine the haunted house at ten. As we left the house, Murdoch and Jangles decided to protest, letting out loud, piercing yowls. As I closed the door behind us, we paused, waiting. There were a few straggling wails but within a couple minutes, the pair quieted down.

  “Melodrama, much?” Penn asked.

  I laughed. “Yeah, but you know full well they’re fine when we go to work. They’re quite the little actors.”

  When we reached the office, Sophia had a card ready for us to sign, for Orik and Hilda. We’d finally decided on an office-wide basket of goodies, including a gift certificate for a couples spa massage, a month’s diaper service for after Ana left, a gift certificate for a fancy dinner for two, served in their home, Hilda’s favorite chocolate and perfume, teddy bears for the babies, dolls for the younger twins, and then jewelry-making kits for the older twins.

  I signed the card. Sophia offered it to Penn.

  “I didn’t contribute,” Penn said. “I’d be happy to, but⁠—”

  “You know them, too. Just sign,” Sophia said, winking at her. “This comes out of the office funds. There’s coffee and pastries over on the counter.”

  Penn signed, then headed over to the counter. “Want anything to eat, Kyann?”

  We’d stopped on the way to work for coffee, so we had our lattes, and we’d had a couple egg bites for breakfast that Penn had made and frozen, so we could microwave them. But it hadn’t been all that substantial.

  “Are there any bear claws?” I asked.

  “Looks like it.” She handed me a plate with a bear claw, while choosing a cinnamon roll for herself. As she sat down next to me, Carson entered the room. He waved, smiling until he saw Penn. Then, his smile faded a little, but a second later he had recovered and took a seat next to Dante. He was still carrying a crush, I noticed.

  Sophia opened her laptop and brought up a Meet-Me chat room. A moment later, Lazenti connected. There were no windows in his room, and everything was shadowed, protected from the sunlight. He waved, sitting at what looked to be a desk in a living room.

  “Hey. Wish I could be there in person,” he said.

  I sighed. “I wish you could, too.” I paused, then added, “Orik’s wife had her babies. We’re heading over to examine a haunted house at ten this morning. But I have a job for you on a pro bono case. I’m helping out Benny⁠—”

  “Benny?” Lazenti laughed. “As long as I don’t have to work hand-in-hand with him, I’m good.” He sobered. “I don’t, do I? Have to work with him?”

  “You might later on,” I said. “But right now, no. I want you to do some sleuthing around the city. See what you can find out about a group called Give A Hand Up. Not the surface stuff. We know that already. But see what you can find beneath the veneer. I talked to Destiny yesterday and she said there are a lot of complaints about the organization. There’s something shady there, but nobody knows what it is yet.”

  Lazenti jotted down the name. “Give A Hand Up…that sounds familiar but I’m not sure why. Nonprofit?”

  “Supposed to be. But there are some red flags, so don’t overlook anything that could be a cover-up. Also, there’s a veteran, Greg Swift, whom we’re looking for. Search out any dirt, rumors, whatever scuttlebutt you can pick up. Sophia, can you send Lazenti a bullet list of what we’ve discovered so far?”

  “Sure,” she said, “I’ll write up a summary and send it over within the hour.”

  “Other than that, how are things going?” I asked.

  “All right,” Lazenti said. “I’ve been hearing a lot of talk lately, in the Underground. Reports of odd encounters. About strangers moving in. A few of the businesses that have been here years closed their doors and the owners vanished. Seriously, Kyann, something’s going on.”

  “When did it start, do you think?” I asked. Lazenti wasn’t given to hyperbole. If he thought something serious was going on, then it was.

  “About four months ago, I think. But I wanted to talk to you. Last night I was out at one of the clubs—the Crimson Rose, which is deep in the Underground. It’s a vampire club, and not for the squeamish, though as far as I can see, nothing unlawful goes on.” He paused.

  “Yes? Go on.”

  “Okay, here’s the thing. I met a man at the bar. He wasn’t a vampire, but he seemed familiar to me. Then, I realized, he reminded me of you. I wasn’t sure why, but he did. He has eyes that looked a lot like yours but otherwise, he didn’t resemble you, so I wasn’t sure why he set off bells. I started talking to him. He said he’s here on a private affair, but I managed to cadge at least one piece of information out of him. He’s an Arosien demon, in from the realms of Demonkin.”

  I froze. “Arosien?” I knew there probably were others of my kind around, but for some reason the news startled me. “Did you get anything else out of him? Why’s he here?”

  “That’s the thing. He wouldn’t even tell me his name, but he did mention he’s here looking for someone. He was…extraordinary. And no, I don’t know what I mean by that.”

  “I wish we knew who he was.” Alarm bells rang. “Did he say anything else?”

  Lazenti leaned forward, his eyes glimmering. “I followed him. He left shortly after, and something warned me that I should follow. He made his way to a place in Lower Seattle—I wrote down the address so I wouldn’t forget it. It’s in the White Center area of the city, on 17th Street.” He gave me the address.

  I stared at it. “That’s Lower Seattle, all right.”

  Lower Seattle was where the poor congregated, stuffed into a small area, with houses that were falling apart and a high crime rate. If you were smart, you kept bars on your windows there, and bars on the doors. And you didn’t venture out after dark unless you knew how to fight.

  “Thing is, I looked up the house’s owner⁠—”

  “Let me guess. A member of Brim Fire?” Dante asked.

  “Surprisingly no,” Lazenti said. “The house is owned by one of the local gangsta magnates—Groo by Groo. He’s a weasel shifter, and he’s smart and a self-made millionaire. He’s one of the most successful slum lords in the city. I’m sending you a link to his bio.” Lazenti sent the link through the chat.

  I opened up the link and found myself staring at a tall, lanky man wearing sunglasses. He had thick, wavy hair that hearkened back to the seventies David Cassady shag cut, and he was wearing a suit that looked expensive and fit him all too well. His shirt was open down to his navel, and several thick gold chains completed the look.

  “Groo by Groo, huh?” I asked. “Looks a little…”

  “You’re looking for the word ‘seedy’ and you’re correct,” Lazenti said. “He’s a low life by nature, who wields all too much power. He doesn’t live in that house, but the demon went into it. I waited for half an hour, before he emerged. I followed him back to the Underground.”

  “I wonder who he’s visiting,” I said. “We know who owns the house, but what about who rents it?”

  “I checked on that, too. This is going to hit a little close to home, Kyann.” There was a warning note in Lazenti’s voice.

  Again, alarm bells went off. “Tell me.”

  “A man in his seventies. His name is Edward Trask.” Lazenti hesitated, then added, “He had a brother named Jace.”

  I stared at him for a moment, then I understood. “No.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, but…”

  Both Penn and Dante understood immediately, before the others got it. Penn stood, staring at Lazenti, while Dante reached out to rest his hand on my shoulder.

  Carson frowned. “Who⁠—”

  “Jace Trask, the serial killer who murdered her mother,” Dante said, his voice low.

  I sat there, unable to respond, a slew of feelings rushing over me. I gripped the edge of the table, trying to ground myself, but inside, a deluge of emotions threatened to bury me, as I stood at the center of the maelstrom.

  “It’s not Jace,” Penn said. “He’s long gone. His brother is not responsible for Jace’s actions⁠—”

  I lowered my head, closing my eyes as I struggled to retain control. The anger and fury were still hiding behind a wall, peeking out from where I had relegated them. Penn was right. Jace was dead. She’d helped me make certain of that. But the pain and anger were ever present, and I had no other place to put them.

  Finally, after a moment of silence, I let out a slow breath and raised my head. I could feel my inner demon struggling. Yes, we had killed Jace, and we’d put an end to his string of atrocities, but it hadn’t soothed the need for justice. My vengeance had been assuaged, but there had been no justice, because there couldn’t be justice. Too many women had died at Jace’s hands, and nothing would ever be enough to ease the pain of their deaths for all their families.

  “Okay, so he went to see Jace’s brother. What next?” I asked, finding my voice again.

  “I followed him back to the Underground, where he entered a hotel there—the Lyleton. It’s for out of town visitors who don’t want to be noticed. After another half-hour, he hadn’t come out, so I returned home. I would have checked to see if he was registered there, but you can’t bribe the staff of the Lyleton, and they pride themselves on their anonymity.”

  “What about Edward? What’s his story?”

  “I don’t know much about him,” Lazenti said. “I haven’t had the chance to look him up.”

  “Maybe I should go talk to him,” I said.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Penn said.

  “I agree,” Dante added. “Leave it to us. The more you keep your distance from him, the better.” He nodded to Carson.

  “I’ll look him up,” Carson said. “Meanwhile, shouldn’t we set off for Konstantine Crow’s house? It may take a little time to get there, since it’s over on the Eastside.”

  I glanced at the time. It was closing in on nine. “You’re right. Okay, Lazenti, if you run into the demon again, see if you can find out anything else,” I said.

  “Will do. Meanwhile, I’ll also nose around for info on Swift, and Give A Hand Up.” He signed off, after apologizing again for startling me. I told him not to worry about it, and we ended the meeting.

  We gathered together the equipment we’d need and, leaving Sophia to manage the office while we were out, headed for the parking lot. Shadow Blade, as a company, owned several vehicles including the van, and we used the van when we were out on investigations, like haunted houses.

  Once across the 520 Floating bridge, we wove our way through Redmond on Avondale Road, turning onto Bear Creek Road and then onto Northeast 133rd Street. Right before the Redmond Watershed’s north entrance, we turned right onto 211th Way NE. We drove along until we reached the turning point into the Eleena District—Rosewood Street.

  The neighborhood wasn’t large, but it ran for several blocks in each direction. A faded sign decorated with moss roses stood at the entrance to welcome strangers in. On the other side of 211th were several urban farmsteads. Rosewood was square center, in terms of the length of the district. From here, the Eleena District stretched at leave ten blocks east, and five blocks both north and south.

  One of the oldest neighborhoods on the Eastside, The Eleena District was fading, a part of the past. The houses were weathered, but they still stood, old but still livable. They weren’t in squalor, but the area felt abandoned, as though time had forgotten the people who lived here, leaving them and their homes in the past. A perpetual autumn permeated the area, where the cobwebs were thick and the shadows deep even on the sunniest of days.

  “What’s his address again?” I asked, as we drove along Rosewood Street.

  “21320 Bracken Lane,” Carson said, consulting his notes. “You’ll turn left when we come to it, and then we’ll have about three blocks until we reach his house.”

  I kept my eyes open, and sure enough—it was only a moment before I saw the street sign signaling Bracken Lane. I turned onto the street. Sure enough, within three blocks we came to Konstantine’s house. As we turned into the lot, I eased the van next to a Toyota Corolla that was sitting in the driveway. I turned off the engine and stared up at the house.

  The three story Victorian looked gloomy. The paint was peeling off some of the siding, and ivy twined up one side, onto the roof, which was the surest way to insure roof rot. Hydrangeas and roses lined the sides of the house, and while their leaves were still young, they looked ready to would bloom out into a massive swath of flowers come June or July.

  The lawn itself was mostly moss, and stepping stone paths lead around to either side of the house. An oak, taller than the house, sheltered the front yard, and the leaves were on their way to full size. Oak moss dripped off the boughs of the tree, hanging down like some shaggy beard on an old man. The oak felt alive to me in the way that portal-trees did, but I couldn’t sense an actual portal around. Toward the back of the lot, it looked like a weeping willow guarded the back yard, as well as several firs and a giant cedar tree.

  “What a beautiful yard,” Penn said.

  “Yeah, but creepy,” Dante answered. “Do either you or Kyann sense anything?”

  I paused before we reached the front porch and closed my eyes. A tingle raced up my back, branching out to fire off warning bells. There were spirits on the prowl—a lot of them. And they didn’t feel welcoming.

  “We’re being watched, that much I can tell. The ghosts are rampant here, and they’re uneasy. I don’t know what happened here, but it feels more like a graveyard than a home to me.” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. While the house was beautiful, in a macabre way, I didn’t like being here. I wanted to turn around and leave, but we had a job to do. “What about you, Penn?”

  She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes. “Pain. So much pain and death. Whatever happened was gruesome. Great Mother Hecate, what the fuck went on here?”