Carlos had placed one hand on Inman's chest, but he was looking at Purlis, who was giving back a poisonous glare.

"You seem to have some difficulty with the rights of others," Carlos said, unfazed.

"Your kind don't have any rights," Purlis hissed back. "You're not humans. You're monsters."

"I was thinking more in terms of property rights. Inman is mine. You took something of mine from me. What should I take from you . . . ?" His gaze roved over the general vicinity, but settled back on Purlis in a moment. "Ah," he murmured, poking Purlis in the chest and then crooking his finger.

Purlis made a choking sound and rose up on his toes as Carlos pulled his hand slowly back. I could see a thin yellow filament of energy drawing out of the man's chest.

"Carlos, no," I said.

He snarled, then rolled his eyes and looked back at me. Our gazes met and for a moment I felt the pressure of his anger and his desire for revenge burning like acid. I didn't back down, but kept my stare on him, disapproving and adamant. He uncrooked his hand.

Inman made a sudden lunge at Purlis while Carlos and I were distracted. Purlis dodged and ducked, snatching something off the floor and ramming it into Inman's chest. The dhampir fell backward, making a gagging, gurgling sound, his hands scrabbling at the steel rod protruding front and back from his ribs.

Carlos dropped to Inman's side while Quinton and I both spun and jumped to pursue Purlis. Purlis, crouched, was running for the door. I went for my gun. Quinton grabbed the bundle of cables and hauled back on it.

The cables sprang off the floor and snapped taut across Purlis's shins. He went down hard on his face and I heard his skull hit the concrete. His energy corona dimmed and he slumped against the floor, stunned or unconscious-I wasn't quite sure which-but certainly not dead. Quinton picked up his father's gun from the workbench and went to check on him while I moved toward Carlos and Inman.

I could hear Inman's wet, gargling cough even though I couldn't see him through Carlos. Demi-vampires aren't as dead as the real thing, so he still needed to breathe, but the rod through his chest wasn't making that easy. I stepped around to where I could see and-if needed-lend a hand. Carlos brushed me aside and put both his hands flat on Inman's damaged rib cage, muttering. The slow blood that welled up around the steel rod crawled across Inman's skin and disappeared under Carlos's hands, but the dhampir didn't seem to be recovering.

"The box . . . box," Inman gurgled. "Feeding . . . Limos."

Carlos seemed shaken and he stopped short in what he was doing, shooting me a glance. Inman's energy corona began fading faster the moment Carlos's attention wavered. The vampire pressed his hands back to the dhampir's chest.

Inman coughed red foam. "The kostni . . . magove . . . move south . . . the bone . . . churches . . ." He put his own blood-coated hands over Carlos's and raised his eyes, going silent, staring at his master while more blood oozed out of him.

Carlos was stricken, a pain-filled expression flitting across his face and then vanishing again. "He's been wasted. I can't-I need more blood." He looked at me and the glance had none of the arrogance or command I expected of him.

It startled me, but I had to shake my head. "I can't. You know I can't."

His gaze darted toward Quinton and his father.

"No," I said, softly but without equivocation.

"Purlis," he suggested in desperation.

I shook my head firmly. "No. If you do that he'll always have a blood tie to Inman. You and Cameron can't risk it."

It was a moot point anyway: Inman was dead. Forever.

Carlos let his shoulders fall. He closed his eyes, head down over Inman's body. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was praying, but I suspected it was something else. I could barely see a thin stream of energy rising from Inman and wafting toward Carlos's downturned face like smoke that the surviving vampire breathed in. It almost seemed he was somehow absorbing Inman's spirit-if a dhampir has a spirit.

Whatever thing, whatever knowledge it was that he received as Inman passed out of the world, it made Carlos furious. He came back up to his feet in a rage, roaring and rushing across the room toward Quinton and Purlis.

Quinton spun on the balls of his feet, still crouching, braced, and raised the gun. "No! If anyone's going to kill this stupid bastard, it'll be me. You back the hell off, Carlos." I had never seen him look so cold-blooded.

"You don't understand, boy!" Carlos shouted, but he didn't advance any farther. "This paltry man brought the hunger that threatens your home-Limos will devour whatever comes into her path and he placed thousands in her reach, which will only expand to hundreds of thousands, to millions. To bring her here, he planted seeds among the dead places of Europe and what he planted is bearing fruit. He brought starvation, disease, and death!"

"I know that!" Quinton spat back. "You think this little experiment tonight was the first one I've seen? My father believes that what he's doing is right-no matter the cost. He believes the United States ought to rule the world-he believes in a global hegemony with America on top and everyone else under our heel. And he thinks he can make it happen by letting the monsters loose-his carefully tailored monsters, first here, then in Europe. He does not care who gets killed or what gets destroyed along the way because he believes in what he's doing. Oh, I do understand."

I felt like I was watching a play and had missed part of the first act. I wasn't quite sure where Carlos had picked up the information he'd thrown out so angrily-from Inman somehow?-because he hadn't seemed to know it when we were wrestling with Limos and Hazzard in the CalAska Pub's back room. And I had known that Purlis believed the end justifies the means, but I hadn't imagined his end to be quite so grandiose. I didn't like being out of this loop.

Quinton and Carlos glared at each other for a moment until Carlos calmed down, but his calm was more frightening than his ire. "No. There is much more to it. What he has unwittingly set in motion will start in Europe, but it will spread. Fanatics who worship the bones . . . I have no time to teach you history!" he snapped. "He brought Limos here and he intended to take her back to Europe well fed after he had caused enough havoc. No doubt he thought a sudden plague of starvation and disease would make a case for whatever expansion of his project he's proposed to whoever holds his purse strings-call it some kind of bioterrorism out of the unstable parts of Eastern Europe and the Middle East and your government leaps to throw money on the fire. But your father can't have known who he was dealing with-he no doubt thought this cabal who told him of the shrine was nothing more than a pack of mad old men who guarded relics of power they didn't understand or dare to use. But they are far from toothless and their age is not infirmity. With power handed to them by Purlis himself, they would starve and burn Europe to scorched earth."

"Who are these men and how do you know this?" I asked.

"The kostni magove-bone mages. I know them of old, in Portugal, when I still breathed. They are not the doddering fools dreaming of myths and magic that they appear to be now. They are ancient and steeped in darkness-I know what they are capable of. They had been stopped, bottled up and made impotent, but they will rise-are rising-because of what Purlis has already done."

I shook my head slightly. "I meant, how do you know what's happening, what Purlis is planning?"

Carlos pressed his hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. "Inman. He showed me what he had plucked from Purlis's mind. What he knew, I know. That is why I wished him back in my hands. Inman's talent remained intact as he moved toward death-it is exceedingly rare. But it was also his weakness through which Purlis took him from me. Only when passing did he return to my mind. Now he is truly dead. And a fire that should have been ashes in Europe long ago is smoldering back to life. Because of him," he said, pointing at Quinton's father.

Carlos lunged toward Purlis again and it took both Quinton and me together to push him back. He wasn't trying too hard or we wouldn't have succeeded; I wasn't sure why he'd made such a feeble attempt when he could have easily bowled us over.

The commotion had roused Quinton's father and he struggled to his knees while we were busy shoving Carlos away.

Chest heaving, I stood close to the suddenly quiescent Carlos and Purlis, keeping both in my sight, but ready to jump back between them. "We'll take care of Limos," I told Carlos. "Here. Soon."

"It will not be enough," Carlos said in a low growl, watching over my shoulder.

Purlis scrambled to his feet and started running for the door.

"I'll take care of my father," Quinton said, turning, raising the gun. . . .

I don't know if he would have killed him-he looked cold enough and set upon it-but I didn't give him the chance. I swung at Quinton, knocking the gun barrel downward.

Not my best move: The bullet ricocheted and skipped off the floor, tearing through the back of Purlis's leg near the knee. It could just as well have gone through something fatal-or through someone more important.

Purlis crashed to the floor again, writhing and trying to crawl away. Quinton shook me off with a glare and darted toward him. Carlos started after them both but I grabbed him, anchoring myself down to the grid as hard and fast as I could, pulling the vampire with me toward the earth, toward the flow and rage of magic.

Carlos struggled a little and I thought I'd lose him, feeling my own energy draining quickly. Then he gave up and stepped away, turning his back. "Let him die, then." The voice was as much in my head as spoken.

I pulled myself back up from the Grey and glanced toward the door. Quinton was kneeling beside his father and I could hear the conversation between them as bowing and plucking on the strings of the Grey, because my natural hearing was nothing but buzz and whine.

"You shot me."

"I missed. I was aiming for your head."

"I'm your father. You owe me your existence, if not your loyalty."

"I gave you that. You pissed on it. I'm not giving you anything else. Except your life. For now."

Quinton ripped strips off his father's shirt and wrapped one above the gushing wound in Purlis's left leg. He picked something up off the floor and used it as a stick to tighten the tourniquet, which he tied down with another strip of the shirt.

Quinton glared down at him. "There. Now we're even."

"You wouldn't leave me here. . . ."

Quinton gave him a hard stare. "What else should I do with you? I can't imprison you-though I wish I could, for humanity's sake, I have no way to do it and it wouldn't do any good to turn you over to the police when there's no charge that will ever stick to you. And I'm not going to kill you and bring the wrath of your agency down on my head. No, you get to stay here until someone comes to find you and I can get well ahead."

"If you leave me here alone, I could die."

Quinton scoffed at the weak bid for sympathy. "You wouldn't die. Your underlings will come back soon enough to find you and save your rotten life. I'll even raise your odds. I'll carry you to the stairs. Which is more than you deserve or would have done for me."

"Son-"

Quinton stood up and away from him. "Call me that one more time and I'll kick you so hard, they'll have to look for your head in Japan. You gave up the right to call me your son. You almost fed me to that thing in the box-Limos or whatever it's called. You believe you're a patriot and the end justifies the means. Well, justify this: I'll see you in Europe, where you won't be threatening my friends, or I'll see you in hell. You choose."

Whatever he saw in his father's eyes convinced him of something and he stooped, picked the older man up, and carried him out of sight.

I turned back to look at Carlos, who had gone so still and quiet I was afraid he'd slipped away.

"We will find Limos," he said. "Her shrine must be here. . . ."

"My head's still reeling. How can she be here if she was with us earlier? And you said she's a goddess of hunger, but a few minutes ago you said something about disease . . . ?"

"She is the goddess of famine. She brings the blight, the failure of crops, the drought, hunger everlasting. Death by starvation. Purlis brought her with him from Europe-I don't know where he found her-and he meant to take her back when he was done here. Somewhere among all these effects is her container, her shrine. She rides Hazzard, uses her ghost to her own ends. To Purlis's ends as long as they coincide."

I closed my eyes, thinking, remembering. . . . "Pandora's Box."

I opened my eyes, sure now. Carlos quirked an eyebrow at me, but said nothing.

"Quinton told me about it. He called it 'Pandora's Box'-something Purlis brought here from Europe. When Quinton found it, it had dirt from the tunnel project on it, which is how I connected it to the ghosts and the PVS patients. Remember Quinton said, 'You tried to feed me to that thing in the box'? He meant Limos's shrine. Well, I'll bet that's what's at the end of these cables."

We looked around the room we were in first, carefully skirting Inman's remains. I tried to follow the cables, but they ended in a coupling at the wall. Carlos followed me out and around to the previous chamber where we'd seen the body of the blue-green creature.

The box of skin and bone was still there, on its own table, surrounded by the glimmer of lives swallowed up in its folding doors. The cable ran to a plate-some kind of resonance emitter, I thought-on which the box stood. I slid the panels open and looked at the miniature shrine within and the glittering wreck of tiny figures, carved in bone and decorated with delicate gems and gold leaf, now all tossed about by the glut of suffering that had been pumped into the box through the device I'd shot in the other room.

"What do we do with it now?" I asked.

"We must entrap Limos in it and then destroy it. Otherwise she will be unbound, and while that will reduce her power, she still holds Hazzard and the tribute of souls. She would have no reason to stop her plans to ruin the Wheel, and every reason to go forward at once."

"Then that's what we'll do. How are we going to catch her?"

Carlos looked amused. "I suggest we lure her to us once again through the offices of your friend Mr. Stymak."

"Why can't you do it?"

"This will be much more complicated than our little chat with Hazzard and her mistress. You and I must be free to act, so others will have to occupy the seance circle. We'll need a circle of protection for them while you and I remain outside it to capture Limos and Hazzard."

"So . . . we need sitters-at this time unknown-to be bait for Hazzard and Limos and we need a medium who doesn't want to be associated with this for a seance we aren't actually going to be part of. Oh, that's going to be a piece of cake," I added in a sarcastic tone.

Carlos laughed-damn him. "I'll leave the arrangements to you on that score."

TWENTY-TWO.

I hadn't liked handling the thing, but I took possession of the shrine of Limos. There really wasn't anything else to do. Carlos had refused it, saying he had only enough darkness left to deal with Inman's body, and I wasn't going to stick Quinton with it. In the end, Quinton found a place for it among his many hidden stashes around town where I could leave it for a few hours in the certainty that it would be undisturbed by anyone, including his father.

Daylight had begun to creep across the sky by the time I drove Quinton home with me, since he and I had also needed to clean a few things up before any of Purlis Senior's associates turned up for the day. I hadn't been sure he had any, but Quinton assured me his father had flunkies who would take care of most of the mess and probably squeal to a superior at their earliest convenience that the head of the project had been shot. There wasn't any sign of Purlis when we'd come up the stairs and at first I was worried, but Quinton had assured me his father was safely off to the University Medical Center-since it was the closest emergency room-having his leg attended to before it got worse. I wasn't sure how he'd gotten there and I didn't want to know, but I was pretty sure that Quinton wasn't lying about the hospital. He'd have needed help with the body if the wretched man had gone and died, and Carlos and I had been the only people around to ask, which he hadn't done.

"You don't seem worried he'll tell someone you're the one who shot him," I said as I drove carefully toward West Seattle.

"No. Dad wouldn't want it to get out. It wouldn't make him look good to say the 'top recruit' he'd been working to bring on board was his renegade son who turned on him. He won't tell the regular cops on me, either. Though if he did, I guess I could always go to them first, demand to see Solis, and get a sympathetic ear at the very least. No, Dad will keep his mouth shut, I'll clean up as much of the disaster as I must to keep from being connected to it, and then I'll have to find the rest of Ghost Division and take care of this problem in person."

"In Europe? But-" I started. Then I shut my mouth over my objection and kept on driving.

Quinton let it drop and he didn't say anything even while we were securing the shrine box.

I drove us home and he followed me up the stairs to the condo in silence. I wasn't angry. I just wasn't sure what to say or how to broach the subject that was weighing on my mind even more than the idea of a ghost and a god killing off a few hundred tourists so they could eat their souls. The booming silence of it hung between us and I tried to ignore it by doing normal, trivial things: I let the ferret out to romp while I undressed and got into the shower. Quinton followed me into the bathroom and leaned against the wall, playing desultorily with Chaos while the steam built up.

"I don't want to leave you," he said once he was completely obscured in clouds of vapor.

"But you're going to."

"I have to. What he's doing is terrible and I feel a little responsible-if I hadn't called on his help a couple of years ago, he wouldn't have known where I was or tumbled to what I knew about ghosts and magic and that sort of thing. I wouldn't have felt I owed him and he wouldn't have been able to screw with my life again. This is at least partly my fault and I know he won't fix it-he'll just try to use the current situation to his advantage. Maybe he'll spin the destruction of the lab as some kind of breakthrough or something. He's perfectly capable of it. And he'll have figured out who-and mostly what-Carlos is, so he'll also have realized you're not just a plain-Jane human being. I'm not sure if he saw anything but I think he already suspected you weren't exactly 'normal.' I need to keep him off you."

I stuck my head out of the shower and gave him a hard stare. "You are not my keeper and you aren't responsible for fending off your dad as a result of my own actions. I can take care of myself in that regard. Especially now that he might already know I'm a little more than an average PI and I won't have to pull my punches."

He walked forward, putting Chaos down on the floor. She danced around our feet as he leaned forward and kissed me softly. "Harper, I know you can look out for yourself, but I have to take care of the situation he's caused. It's my responsibility."

"Would you have shot him? I mean fatally?"

"I think I would have. And I guess I should say thank you for stopping me. That would have been a mistake. This way, he'll want to cover it up. Otherwise, his bosses would have come looking for me and I'd never have been free again. I am grateful. I love you. And not just because you came to my rescue like a knight in crumpled armor with your trusty vampire sidekick, either. I just . . . I just do."

I grinned at him. "Then why don't you get your clothes off and get in here?"

He looked shaggy and dirty, his clothes were stained with some things I didn't want to think about, and we were both at less than our best, but I couldn't think of anyone I would rather share a shower with. He glanced down at himself, back at me, and broke into a wicked grin.

He was pretty quick at getting out of his clothes, though dropping them on Chaos wound her up and we could hear her chuckling and dancing around in miniature ire as Quinton joined me under the stream of hot water. We stayed until the water got tepid and then fought our way past the furious ferret to roll into bed and make love until we were both too tired to try anymore. We even forgot to put Chaos back in her cage.

A brush of whiskers on my face woke me at noon. Quinton was already gone, but a note said he'd be back. I picked up the ferret and showed it to her.

"What do you think?" I asked. "Truth or lie?"

She sniffed the paper and snorted. Then she tried to eat it, leaving neat sets of puncture marks in the corner of the page until I took it from her. "I'll take that as a vote of confidence, since you didn't turn up your nose."

Talking to the ferret made me feel less alone, but it probably would have given most people the impression I was completely off my rocker. I put her down and got dressed, then took her out to the kitchen while I made some breakfast and thought about what I'd have to do next.

Carlos and I had determined that we needed another seance in order to capture Limos. The only practical bait would be the families of the patients, since they would attract the ghosts bound to Hazzard and through her to Limos. We'd have to use them to get the goddess to her shrine, then capture her in it and disperse whatever hold Hazzard had established over the ghosts. Once that was done, we'd have to get rid of Hazzard and hope that allowed the ghosts the freedom to rest and leave their unwilling hosts alone.