"Right," Derrick said. "A plan for survival. That sounds like something useful." He handed me a steaming mug of tea. "First, I'd start with 'running.' That seems like an all-purpose solution for evading death, if you ask me."

"Can we please just do this?" He knew how easily distracted I was, especially at night, when all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and eat ice cream.

"Fine, fine." He gestured to the nearby chair, and I sat down next to him. "Let's go over what we know about all of these demonic incidents."

"Are we calling them 'incidents' now? I was thinking more along the lines of 'that wacky time yesterday when we almost died.' "

It was bad enough that Marcus had been present for such a humiliating moment-my apartment getting dusted for fingerprints, Selena taking my statement like I was just another vic. And now I was off the case-whatever that meant. How do you abandon a case when your life is right in the middle of it? Can you be reassigned a new life? And is there a carbon-copy remnant of your old one, left behind, tucked away in some fat and dour secretary's desk while she eats her tuna sandwich? I didn't want to envisage drops of mayonnaise spilling on my old life.

"Let's just try to come at this logically," Derrick said, trying to maintain his patience. "We know that Cassandra works at SemTec Laboratories. Her job has something to do with organic chemistry, although I'm fuzzy on the details. She said that it's 'boring,' but somehow I doubt that's true. She's hiding something."

"Everyone's hiding something," I mumbled.

SemTec Laboratories, we'd discovered, was a small, unassuming office in a corporate building on West Georgia, in the heart of the downtown core. It was the city's financial district, and rent was high, so whatever SemTec Labs did, they must have been making money.

"Whatever she's doing," I said, sipping my tea, "it can't be good. Demons and chemistry- especially anything having to do with genetics-make me nervous. You might as well just give her a loaded gun."

"Like the one the Vailoid demon was carrying? It's already been done today."

"I was being ironic."

"Yeah, so was I."

"Okay. We've got a dead vamp, who was obviously looking for Mia-"

"Well, we don't know that for sure. He had her address in his pocket, but who gave it to him? Hell, it could have been Mia." He shrugged. "I know she's just a kid, but we still can't rule her out entirely as a suspect."

"That demon tried to kill her."

"Well, that's what it looked like anyway. Maybe he was there to kill us, and Mia just happened to be there."

I rubbed my forehead. "We're trying to narrow this down, not blow it up, hon."

"But we've got to be realistic, too. We don't know who sent the Vailoid demon, at least not for sure."

"Cassandra's a suspect-she lied to us when we asked her about the vampire, and I have a feeling that she's still lying to us."

"But that doesn't mean that she tried to kill us. You saw how happy she was that Mia ended up safe and sound. She was really worried about her. I felt it-I don't think she could fake something like that."

I turned the mug around in my hands. "Okay-I don't want to admit it, but you're right. I just wish we could eliminate some possibilities. Nothing fits. The Vailoid bounty hunter, Cassandra working at a lab, Mia-it's all like some poorly plotted horror novel where nothing makes sense."

"At least there are no aliens so far."

"Thank God for that." I wrapped both my hands around the mug, letting it warm me up. I'd been freezing all night- probably a side effect of the painkillers. "Realistically, the vampires are the only angle we've got left. Everything depends upon my meeting with Lucian tomorrow."

"You know what still bothers me, though? Why the gun?" Derrick raised his hands. "The Vailoid could have torn us apart. Why was he carrying a piece-something that could potentially be traced? Seems reckless and unnecessary."

"The gun could have been the cover."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he shoots us all, execution style-and then what happens?"

Derrick's eyes widened. "It would look like a robbery," he said.

"That's the sort of thing the VPD would investigate- not the CORE. So nobody'd ever know that a demon had done it."

"Huh."

We were silent for a while.

"So we can't finger Cassandra as a suspect," he said, "but we can't eliminate her either. Same with Mia."

"I don't think Mia's capable of anything like this," I replied. "But I do think that Cassandra is."

"Why-just because she's a demon?"

I looked at him flatly.

"Tess, come on. We both know that's hardly fair. You and I are part-demon as well. And we've met plenty of good demons-"

"There are no 'good demons'!" I glared at him. "You know that. You feel it in your gut, just like I do. We're different, Derrick, because we have human DNA. Human blood. It makes us different from them. But the pure demons- they're nothing but killing machines with fancy cars and Swiss bank accounts."

"I wasn't aware that everything had suddenly become black-and-white."

My eyes widened. "When did you go all softcore liberal on me? These are demons. We fight them-remember? We protect humanity from them."

Derrick's expression was maddeningly patient. "We don't fight all of them. Some of them are on our side. Some of them are valuable allies."

"Yeah-but we never stop watching our backs when they're around, do we?" I rose. "It's peachy keen to work with reformed vampires, but you never stop thinking that they're about to bite you. It's okay to consult with goblins and kobolds, but you wouldn't invite them into your house. Would you?" I scowled. "And do not say that some of your best friends are goblins."

"I just don't think it's that simple, Tess."

"And that's why you don't work in the field." It slipped out before I could stop it.

Derrick returned my look. "Oh. So a telepath doesn't count? I get my paycheck from the CORE, I investigate mystical crime scenes, just like you, but-what-I'm not a real investigator? I don't rate?"

"I didn't mean-"

"And why's that?" he continued. "Because I appreciate gray areas? Because I'm willing to entertain the idea that not all demons are bad?"

"Because you hesitate," I said. It was too late now-the Pandora's box was open. All we could do was follow the argument through. "Because, when it comes down to the crucial moment-when you're in a dark alley, and you've got a demon following you, hunting you- there's always going to be that second where you think, 'Wait a minute, what if they're just like me?' And that second will get you killed, Derrick."

"I've seen you hesitate plenty of times."

"Only when there's another option. But I'm always ready to make the decision. I'm always ready to strike first, and sort out the morality later."

He rolled his eyes. "And that sounds like a healthy attitude."

"It's an attitude that's saved both our lives," I snapped, "on many occasions. And don't you dare tell me that the demon who raped my mother was just 'misunderstood.' " I could feel that familiar anger suffusing me. "He left her to die in a parking lot, Derrick. It was sheer luck that my father came along when he did. You know that's why they never talk about how they met." I laughed heartlessly. "Although it's kind of romantic, in a twisted way. He really swooped in and saved the day, rescuing some poor woman, taking her to the hospital, and then they just-fell in love. But they'll never know the truth about my real 'father,' and Mom refuses to think about it anymore."

Derrick flushed slightly, but said nothing. He'd hit me where it hurt, and so I struck right back.

"They're not human." I exhaled. "No matter how sweet and cute they look, no matter how nicely they talk, no matter what they're wearing-it's all just an illusion. They'd kill us in a second if we weren't useful to them."

Derrick shrugged-a gesture halfway between discomfort and reconciliation. "Maybe," he said simply. "But I have to believe that you're wrong-at least on some level. If I don't, then . . ." He trailed off.

"Then we really are screwed," I finished. "Outnumbered, surrounded by lethal monsters who want to suck out our souls, and trapped in a battle that we're eventually going to lose."

His look was bleak. "That pretty much covers it, yeah."

"Well, I hope I'm wrong, too," I said. "For what it's worth."

We were silent for a while.

"What about Mia?" Derrick asked finally. "Do you think she's a demon? I can't read anything from her, but like we said, it does seem possible to hide a genetic signature. If you're powerful enough."

"We'll have to ask some questions." I drained the mug and put it down. "Selena's already set up the meeting with the necromancer, so I might as well ask him about some other things as well-I mean, as long as I've got his ear, right?"

Derrick eyed me warily. "That sounds a lot like conducting your own investigation-which Marcus expressly told you not to do, especially when we're still waiting on that paperwork to clear both of us for killing Mr. Happy Shark."

"Well, Marcus Tremblay can expressly bite me right now, if he's so inclined. This is my life-our lives-that are at stake. These demons aren't just after Mia. You and I are both targets now. And if we don't keep working on this case, then that's all that'll be left of us in a few weeks-a case file, with three autopsy reports." My look was grim. "I won't let it come to that."

"So you're going to use CORE resources to blow open this case, even though both your superiors have warned you not to? Selena is going to bat for you, remember? She's trying to put a rush on those papers. And even Marcus seemed to care about you, which is kind of like science fiction, but hey, I guess it happens." He gave me a maddening Derrick look. "These people have their asses on the line for you-for both of us-and you could be screwing them over by doing this."

I smiled. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure I don't get caught."

Derrick sighed. "So what are you going to say to this Lucian character? Won't he get suspicious when you ask him about the siring process? And how much is he really going to know about it as a necro, an outsider? Probably just what the vamps tell him."

"We've got to take our chances," I replied. "Your hunch about Mia and the blood thing is the best that we've got so far. And even if they don't tell us anything on purpose, they might let something slip by accident. Hopefully, they'll be able to ID the dead vampire, and then we can take a look at his digs."

He stared at me. "You're going to go to his home? And do what?"

"See what we can find, of course."

"And you're going to steal a couple evidence kits, an ALS light source, a few print lifters- what, just like that?"

"I'll give them back," I said patronizingly.

"You'll have to sign them out first."

"Well, I'll take them to the vampire interview. Then if I get any info about the vic's place of residence, I can swing by there afterward. I'll still have the kits. It won't be a big deal."

"Still seems like a big risk."

"Yeah?" I gestured around. "Seems like a bigger risk to sit on our butts waiting for the next demon to come crashing through. I'd much rather come at this proactively. At least then I'll see my death head-on as it's running toward me."

12.

I was meeting Lucian Agrado at a club called Moonbase, which was apparently vampire owned and operated. He was like the freaking Andy Warhol of the immortal-ugly community-everyone wanted to hang with him. I couldn't tell if he was the friendly "human" face for a vampiric hunting ground, or if his role as necro-liaison was something entirely different. The CORE had long heard rumors about vampires and necromancers running in the same circles, but their political alliances were still a mystery to us. If they'd decided to join forces, even casually, we could be humped.

I'd never been to an undead club before-unless you counted The Odyssey with its twink zombies gyrating in unison to progressive trance-so I didn't know what to expect. Goth kids drinking wine and dancing to Vovoid? Cabaret singers with fangs? Maybe a Liza drag-queen twirling a wooden stake. Why did necromancers always frequent clubs? Why couldn't they run a nice cafe, or a friendly neighborhood pub? Maybe British vampires ran pubs. Maybe it was just like Coronation Street , only with a much higher mortality rate.

The club was on the corner of Granville and Nelson, just before the bridge. It was across the street from a very old strip joint, which occasionally ejected drunk forty something guys onto the oily pavement like something unsavory and undigested. It was still early, so there wasn't much of a crowd outside-just a few kids smoking, a panhandler, and an enormous bouncer wearing a yellow muscle-T that said FRANKIE SAYS RELAX. Apparently even the denizens of hell go crazy for Urban Outfitters. He was way too pale to be human, and he was also wearing sunglasses at night.

The building itself was actually quite nondescript-a clean, beige facade, with pillars supporting the entrance, and an ornate, wrought-iron set of gates for the front door. The gates were currently open, but the bouncer was standing between them. I could hear the faint thump of music inside, although it was impossible to tell what kind. Obviously, Moonbase started early. It made sense, I guess. If you're a vampire, you can get your rocks off before 11 p.m., and still have the rest of the night to do with as you please. Rent a video, crochet a scarf, or whatever vampires do with their spare time.

I approached the bouncer. I was wearing my "all about confidence" outfit-black, knee-high Fluevogs (flats, in case I had to run), Kenneth Cole skirt that I had rocked on many an occasion, gray blouse, and long leather pope jacket that I pretended made me look like Anita Blake. The jacket covered most of the cuts and bruises that were still healing from last night, and I'd tried to make my face look like less of a train wreck with some heavy-duty concealer.

I waved to the vampire bouncer. He stared at me without taking off his sunglasses. I stood close enough so that he could sense my genetic signature, but far enough away so that my neck was out of biting-distance. I used a similar move on blind dates-it usually worked.

"I'm Tess Corday," I said. "I have a meeting with Lucian Agrado at nine forty-five."

He stared at me for a while longer, then pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. He grunted something into the phone, then put it away.

"You're cleared. Go past the dance floor and climb the set of stairs that lead to the sound booth. Walk down the hallway and enter the first open door that you come to. Wait there."

His expression didn't change, but I could sense an appalling eagerness from him, a hunger.

He very much wanted me to challenge him, so that he'd have an excuse to tear through my carotid. I wasn't going to give it to him.

"First room with an open door," I repeated dutifully.

"Do not go anywhere else. Don't open any of the other doors, and don't go into the sound booth. Don't talk to anyone on your way there. If you deviate from these instructions, we won't be able to protect you. Do you understand?"

"What-you mean, I can't take pictures and post them on Facebook?"

He stared at me.

"Don't worry." I smiled. "No sneaking around. I promise. "

"By agreeing to meet with you," the bouncer continued, "the liaison and the vampire community are doing you a favor. But if you don't follow his instructions completely, your life will be forfeit. The truce will not matter."

"Yeah-I heard you the first time." My eyes narrowed. "Hey, what exactly do you mean by a 'favor'?"

"You'll see." He smiled-just slightly-then stepped aside. "Welcome to Moonbase, Miss Corday. Have a pleasant night."

"Sure. You, too." I couldn't resist. "Don't eat too much."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Some vampires had no sense of humor.