Hunters are trained pretty thoroughly not to make assumptions. But we're also trained not to discount the thing that's staring us in the face. It's a fine line to walk.

My concentration narrowed. One thing at a time.

Poking, probing, my hand motionless in the steam, the rest of the world shut itself away. Saul had gone quiet and quiescent, watching my back. Intuition flared and faded, trying to track the traces of sorcery through a shifting mass of intention and weird, sideways-skipping dead ends.

It faded and flared maddeningly, and I came back to myself, exhaling a short dissatisfied huff of air. "Goddammit."

"Nothing?" Saul asked cautiously.

"Nothing I can see from here. I'd have to go between to track this one." Goose bumps crawled over my arms as I said it, and I hurried to give him the last half of what I was thinking. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on doing it unless it becomes necessary."

"It's not necessary?" He sounded dubious, but the relief of knowing I wasn't going between probably made him sound that way.

"Not at this point. I still have a couple other things to track down, like our other victim's other address. And I'm going to go see Mama Zamba. If it's a voodoo feud, she'll know about it. If it's not, she'll want to know someone's messing around on her turf, and she's far from the worst ally in a situation like this." I backed cautiously away from the stove. The surface of the water still roiled greasily, but the sorcery was fading. It hadn't been completed, so all the work and effort Lorelei had put in it was bleeding away, blood from a wound. "If nothing pans out with her, I'm going to have to go see Melendez. Jesus."

"You're not going to either of them without me." Flat and quiet.

I turned on my heel and opened my mouth to tell him I'd go wherever I had to, but the look on his face stopped me. Saul looked worried, dark circles under his eyes and his mouth a tight line. His hands had curled into fists-shocking, first because he was a Were, and second because he was always so even and steady. He was too calm to be believed most of the time, and I didn't realize how much I depended on that calm until he was gone.

Or until we hit a snag like this.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" I didn't mean it to come out so harsh. Christ, Jill, his mom just died. Give him a break. But the words spilled out. "We've got a couple of really serious problems here, and I need you firing on all cylinders. I count on you, Saul."

Great. Well, I suck at giving breaks. But Jesus...

"I know." His dark gaze slid past me, as if he couldn't bear to look. "I just..."

"You just what? I know-look, I really know you're suffering. Your mom... I mean, you're grieving, I understand. I'm trying to give you space, you know. It's just hard when I'm running to solve a case. I don't have a lot of time. I'm sorry." The tangle of everything I should have said instead-beautiful things that would help him feel better-rose to choke me, and I swung away from him, looking for a phone. "I'm going to call Montaigne. Take the car and go home, I'll wait for them to come secure the scene; I've got a couple things I need them to take samples of for me. Then I'm going to check out our first victim's address, and visit Zamba. I'll be home when I can and we'll hash this out."

He wasn't having any of it. "You think this is about my mother?" He sounded shocked. "So you've been-"

"Trying to give you some space. Which I'm going to keep doing. I've got shit happening here, Saul. If the hostage ends up dead or we're looking at a voodoo war, all fucking hell is going to break loose." And I'll be on the front lines trying to deal out enough ammo to keep it from killing more innocent people.

"Jill-"

I cut him off. I had to. "Saul. Go home. I'm sorry, I'm a hunter. That comes first. I love you and I'm going to give you the space you need to get your head clear. Go the fuck home." I took two steps toward the phone. They were hard-every inch of me wanted to turn back, grab him, and hug him and tell him it was all going to be okay.

But I had more than a sneaking suspicion that something was about to break over my city. If the hostage ended up dead, there went the Cirque's promise of good behavior, and I'd have a hell of a time getting another hostage out of them and making sure they didn't step outside their boundaries and go hunting instead of just luring the suicidal, desperate, insane, and psychopathic in to play their games. And if a voodoo war broke out at the same time... it didn't bear thinking about. There was only one of me, and a lot of uppity assholes to kill to keep the peace once chaos was on the loose instead of still mostly contained.

If the two things were connected, someone was making a lot of trouble for me, and I needed to get a handle on it yesterday.

"Jill-" Saul tried again.

"Go on." I didn't want to sound harsh. I really didn't. I tried to take a gentle tone. "Go home. Really. I'll be along when I can. I love you."

Lorelei's phone was at the end of the kitchen counter. I picked it up and dialed a number I knew by heart. Saul's footsteps were heavy. He headed for the back door.

Don't go. Come here and I'll hug you. Everything's going to be okay. I love you, I can love you enough to make the hurt go away. Come back.

"Montaigne," the phone barked in my ear.

Saul pulled the back door to but didn't close it. I felt him, each step taking a lifetime, sliding away around the corner of the house.

"Hello?" Monty bit the word like it personally offended him.

I came back to myself with a jolt. "Monty, it's Jill."

"Oh, Christ. What?"

"I've got a body I need taken care of, and I need a scene gone over. I also need Avery to meet me here." I gave Lorelei's address. "Get them here now-I'm on a schedule."

"When are you not?" He didn't ask any stupid questions, at least. "Are things going to get ugly?"

God, I hope not. The pressure behind my eyes wouldn't go away. Neither would the stone in my throat, but I sounded sharp and Johnny-on-the-spot. All hail Jill Kismet, the great pretender. "Time will tell. Get them out here, Monty. I'll be in touch."

"You got it." He hung up, and I did too. Thank God police liaisons don't question a hunter's judgment, even if they don't know what we're dealing with most of the time. Those that do know-and Monty had brushed the nightside once or twice-have a better idea than most, and leap to do what we ask.

The alternative really doesn't bear thinking about, but I'm sure they do.

I turned in a complete circle. I heard the Pontiac's engine purr into life outside. Oh, Saul. Jesus. I wish I was better for you.

I had work to do, not the least of which was sweeping the scene so I was sure it was safe for the forensic techs who were about to descend. Time to get cracking.

But oh, my heart hurt.

12.

Avery arrived just as I was giving my forensics liaison the rundown. Piper is my very favorite tech. She didn't even blink when I told her what samples I needed. Lorelei's house was clear, her basement altar quiet, and the only problem was three live chickens brooding in wire cages downstairs. It's the kind of problem Piper's used to solving, and not much disturbs her serenity. She's got four kids and a husband who does house duty while she's out at crime scenes, and her sleek brown ponytail is almost never disarranged.

"Chickens?" She barely even raised an eyebrow. Behind me, they were photographing Lorelei's body.

"I don't care what you do with them, sell them or something."

She gave me a look that could only qualify as long-suffering. I'm sure she practiced it on her kids. "Okay. You want a file on the body, of course. Can Stan release it after the autopsy? Anyone likely to want it?"

"I have no clue. Don't release it until I give the okay."

"Is it likely to..." Both eyebrows did raise this time, slightly.

"If it was likely to sit up and start causing trouble I wouldn't let you keep it." I'd already taken care of piercing the palms and feet with long iron nails. "Have Stan do a full workup, but warn him not to take the nails out."

She didn't even blink. "Your wish is our command. Anything we need to be worried about?"

"Of course not. Take pictures of the altar downstairs, catalog the scene-the usual."

"Got it. Anything I should beep you if we find?"

Someone called her name, she raised a hand to let them know she'd be with them in a second. I mulled the question, shuffling priorities and evidence inside my head. "Nope. Just let me know when the file's done. See if you can find out if anyone visited her-check the phone and have the black-and-whites ask her neighbors."

She nodded. "Got it."

Technically I suppose I should have had a couple of homicide deets there to take care of the legwork, but I'd told Monty not to bother. This was so clearly one of my cases, and there was no reason for anyone to be brought in on call. It wasn't like I didn't know what had happened. "Great. Thanks, Piper."

She shrugged. "Yeah, well. You're sure this one won't...."

"It won't come back to life, Piper. I promise. Just tell Stan not to take the nails out."

"Okay." A shadow crossed through her dark eyes, but she shrugged again and went to work. Which officially finished up my job here.

Avery leaned against the hood of his Jeep, and I got a pleasant surprise. Eva was there too, perched on the hood like a Chrysler-approved pixie. The breeze stirred her dark hair, and I could tell just from the tension in her shoulders that she was still upset over losing Watson. Either that or something else, since Ave looked troubled too.

"How's our first victim?" I didn't bother with a preamble. Our second victim was still missing, or I would know about it.

"Funny you should ask." Ave's mouth twisted. "Had to sedate him and tie him down again. He was throwing himself all over the cell. I'm surprised he doesn't have a concussion. He was chanting again, too. It was hinky as hell."

Eva shivered. "It took three darts before he even slowed down. I don't know what we're going to do when he wakes up again."

Interesting. "Anyone there with him?"

"Benito and his bum leg. Wallace is out on a job. It sounded like a regular one," Eva added hurriedly, seeing my expression. "We've traded notes. Nobody's seen anything like this."

I nodded. "Care to come check out our first victim's other address? I want to eyeball it, and if there's anything there I'm going to have you two secure the scene while I go traipsing around following clues."

"Sounds like a good time." Avery grinned. "We were going to go to a movie but this is ever so much better."

Oh, I'll bet. "Bite your tongue. And give me your car keys."

That wiped the grin off his face, and Eva sighed.

"You're driving?" Avery dug in his jacket pocket, but slowly.

"We need to get there this century. Come on, Avery. I've never been in an accident in my life."

"It's not for lack of trying, I bet." But Eva looked angelically innocent when I glanced at her. "Seriously, Jill. You're not quite a menace, but you're close."

"Why does everyone feel the need to comment on my driving?" I held out my hand, Avery dropped his key ring in, and I motioned at them like a mother hen. "Come on, chickadees. Let's get going-Mama's in a hurry."

13.

The address on Ricardo's food-handler's permit was a trim little one-story bungalow on Vespers. The place looked nice enough, despite the dying lawn. Still, we live in the desert, and not many people have the patience or the funds to drench sun-dried dirt regularly enough to make it bloom.

But that kind of bothered me. The lawn was dying, not dead. I sat in the Jeep, eyeing the house, and Avery groaned.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Don't be dramatic. You should take this beast in for a tune-up." I unclipped my seat belt, still staring at the house. What's wrong with this picture?

Sometimes looking at a scene is like that. Something doesn't jell, and it takes a few moments to make everything snap together behind your eyes in a coherent picture. I've given up wondering if the way hunters turn psychic is the sorcery or the science of informed guessing, or both. It doesn't matter. What matters is listening to that little tingling shock of wrongness as it hits right under the surface of conscious thought, and not ignoring it.

The hunter who ignores instinct is dead in the water.

"That was fun." Eva burbled from the backseat. "Damn, Jill, you should rent out as a cabdriver."

"People would drop dead of heart attacks." Avery was looking a little green. And he was sweating a bit. "Jesus."

"Come on, buck up." Eva ruffled his hair, and Avery grinned, blushing. The slow grin got him a lot of female attention, but it seemed a bit softer now. An internal happiness, rather than an external show.

He looked like a man in love.

Now I'd officially seen everything. And a sharp pin lodged itself in my heart. I ignored it.

I studied the house some more. This really, really doesn't feel right. Lawn dying, but it was a nice one until recently. Ricardo worked as a dishwasher; why would he list this as his address if he was on the edge of poverty? And why does it give me the heebies so bad?

The porch light wasn't on, though that probably meant nothing. It doesn't take a lawn a long time to yellow out here, especially in the autumn before the storms sweep up the river. But there was something else. The swirl of etheric energy over the whole place was congested, bruised. Strong negative emotion will do that, especially over time. But it's only one of the things that will.

"Jill?" Eva, again. Avery knew better than to talk when I went quiet like this. So did Saul.

Saul. Christ. I wish I could go home.

But there's never an excuse for leaving a job half-done. "Stay here."

"You got it," Avery said immediately. "Should we call anyone if anything, you know, happens?"

What, and have this place crawling with vulnerable people to protect? Still, he meant well. "No. If anything happens you should first drive away. Wait for me back at the precinct."

"What exactly do you think is going to happen?" Eva shifted uneasily in her seat. Both of them smelled healthy, with the darker edge of clean brunettes and her light feminine spice. Now the edge of adrenaline and fear touched both distinct scents.

"Can't tell yet." I'm not even going to guess. "Just stay here." I dropped Avery's keys in his lap and slid out of the Jeep, slamming the door with a little more care than I used with my own cars.

Quit thinking about Saul. Focus on the work at hand.

I went up the cracked driveway. That was another thing-no car parked outside. They had a garage, but the recent oil stain on the concrete led to the conclusion that a car was missing. I wondered if it was our victim's, discarded the question. It didn't matter right now, wouldn't until I figured out who belonged here-and who didn't.