“I’m assuming you’re responsible for the tied-up Clark and Jones? The very same ones who are whimpering and blubbering about Stonehenge in the Bobs’ office?” Reginald inquired with a raised brow, glaring at me.

I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He loved me.

Honestly, I was surprised Reginald was in the office. It was 2 AM.

The only reason I hadn’t waited until morning was because I knew that the Bobs literally lived at headquarters. Their very ornate apartment was connected to their ridiculously fancy office. I planned on yanking their uppity asses right out of their beds.

“What the FUCK?” Zeernebooch shouted and purposely banged his head against the wall. “For over fifty years I don’t see one Demon Hunter, and in the space of twenty-four hours I just happen to run into three?”

Well, that was certainly some interesting news. Reginald was full of surprises. I wondered if he knew my parents.

Hank shot me a covert look and I shrugged. Shit kept getting stranger.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again, Zeernebooch,” Reginald deadpanned. “But it’s not. How was your last little jaunt in the pokey?”

“Lovely,” Zeernebooch lied. “They had cable.”

“Excellent,” Reginald replied and then turned his attention back to me. “How can I help you and your motley crew?”

“You’re a Demon Hunter?”

“Apparently,” he said with an eye roll.

Holy hell, Reginald was more obnoxious than I was. However, his newly discovered skill could possibly come in handy.

“Can I ask you a question, Reggie?” I inquired as I made myself comfortable on the edge of his desk.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope. Why are you here? It’s the middle of the freakin’ night, dude. Do the Bobs make you work 24-7?”

Reginald sighed and closed the file folder he’d obviously been working on. I glanced down and read the tab. SHUNNED. He was clearly still cleaning up the hot mess that Clark and Jones had made.

“I’m here because I was made aware that you and your illustrious mate were back in town,” he replied flatly, eyeing Hank and me with distaste. “Where you two go, trouble follows. That is why I’m here.”

I tilted my head to the side and picked up the folder on his desk. “I think you’re fibbing, Reginald. This folder has nothing to do with Hank or me. If you were concerned about us having a good time in Chicago, you should have been looking for us.”

He put his hand out for the folder and feigned a yawn. “That is not yours.”

“Is it classified?” I shot back.

He paused and considered his words. Reginald choked out the next sentence because it was clearly appalling to him. “Nothing is classified to a WTF Council member.”

“That’s what I thought,” I told him as I opened the folder and perused it. Holy cow. If what I was seeing was accurate, Clark and Jones were going to be demoted for a very long time. Cases A, B, C, and D were still on the loose. “So not all of the shunned have been located?”

“Four haven’t been found—yet,” Reginald confirmed curtly. “However, there is a fine chance they’re dead. They’ve been missing for a few months. I’m quite sure your visit isn’t about the shunned.”

“You are quite right,” I replied in a tone just as snippy as the one he’d used on me. “I’ve come to wake up my buddies.”

“You’ll have to come back then,” Reginald told me. “The Bobs are out.”

That was an unwelcome surprise. I’d always assumed they went to bed around 8 PM if they weren’t out peeling the skin from people’s bodies.

“Not buying it,” Hank said, sitting on the other side of Reginald’s desk. “I’d think the old farts need a whole hell of a lot of beauty sleep.”

The beginnings of a smile pulled at Reginald’s lips but quickly disappeared. As much as he pretended not to like Hank or me, I knew he did… kind of. Like a father loved his wild, out of control toddlers who had put his TV remote in the toilet to see if it would float.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll play. If the Boobs aren’t here, where are they?”

“It’s the Bobs,” Reginald corrected me with a smile he couldn’t hide.

His smile made his eyes twinkle and his handlebar mustache curl up higher on his cheeks. It was freakin’ adorable. Not that I would tell him. He’d probably kick my ass. And now that I knew he was a Demon Hunter, I should probably be more careful… Nah. It was too much fun to give him shit.

“Whoops,” I said, smacking my forehead. “My bad. Where are the Bobs?”

“Red Lobster.”

And now it was all coming together.

Well… a small part of it was. The big stuff was still a mystery, but the details were creeping out into the open.

“With Witches?” I asked, casually. “To pay them back for icing down the crime scene?”

Reginald was silent as he squinted at me in surprise.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Dwayne squealed as he noticed the glass paperweight on the desk. “You have Gaga’s head! It’s beyond gorge and soooooo sparkly. Where did you get this? It’s completely fabu!”

Reginald blushed and preened under Dwayne’s over the top admiration. With a complete and shocking change of personality, the man pulled out nine more heads from his desk drawer. Cher’s head now sat next to Gaga. The rest—Barbra Streisand, Bette Midler, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, Judy Garland, Diana Ross, Madonna, and Liza Minnelli were lined up accordingly.

I was now positive that Reggie played for Dwayne’s team.

Dwayne literally screamed with delight over all the heads. Belphegor had to stabilize him so he didn’t hit the floor in his rabid excitement.

“I’m gonna pass out. The beauty is so overwhelming my knees can’t take it,” Dwayne cried out as he reverently ran his pinky finger over Joan Crawford’s face.

The heads twinkled and sparkled in the light cast from the overhead chandelier. Even I had to admit the likenesses were uncanny.

“I made them,” Reginald announced.

Dwayne shrieked again causing all of us to slap our hands over our ears in pain. I was surprised one of the glass heads didn’t explode since the pitch of Dwayne’s scream was so freakin’ high.

“Shut the front fucking door,” Dwayne whispered, realizing he’d possibly caused a few ruptured eardrums. “I mean, how? The artistry is incredible. I feel like Joan is in the room and about to whip my hiney with a wire hanger.”

“Umm… ewww,” I said.

“Too much?” Dwayne inquired.

“Yep,” Granny told him with a chuckle.

“But seriously, Reginald,” Dwayne went on, caressing Cher in an almost sexual way. “You are a genius. I would pay good money to have Bette Midler eyeing my goodies on a regular basis.”

“I use a combination of hot sculpting and cold working,” Reginald shared, greatly pleased with his new and loud fan club of one. “Very time consuming, but very satisfying.”

“Are there more?” Belphegor asked as he too almost slobbered over the tiny lady head sculptures.

“A few,” Reginald said, cryptically. “I only sculpt women that fascinate me… and family.”

“Have you sculpted Sophia Loren?” Zeernebooch inquired, examining the glistening works of art.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Reginald said, reaching into his desk.

It was the spitting image of a young Sophia Loren. However, it was also the spitting image of Granny.

“I’ll buy it!” Zeernebooch announced grandly. “Until I have earned enough points to properly bone Bobbie Sue, I’d like to place her tiny head in my pocket, so it’s nestled close to my enormous pecker. This will make me happy. Will you take a check?”

That was a showstopper. No one said a word. Zeernebooch glanced around in alarm and then quickly hid behind a large chair to protect his enormous pecker.

“Was that not good?” he whispered.

Again, no one spoke. It wasn’t until Granny began to cackle that everyone started to breathe again.

“Demon, if you weren’t beginning to grow on me like a fungus, I’d cancel your dang birth certificate,” Granny told him. “However, I think it’s kind of hot that you want my glass head near your salami.”

“Does that mean I get another point?” Zeernebooch asked, pushing his luck.

“You get a quarter of a point, because while that was flattering—it was also disgusting,” she told him.

“I’ll take it,” Zeernebooch bellowed. “That is, I’ll take the partial point and the head. How much?”

Reginald shrugged and began to put the heads back in the drawer. “I don’t sell them.”

Zeernebooch was devastated… but only briefly. “Okay, how about this? You turn away for a moment and I steal it. I’d be happy to go back to the pokey as long as Bobbie Sue’s luscious lips are near my man rod.”

And once again there was silence.

“Pappy,” Belphegor said with a sigh. “You should stop. Now.”

“Seriously?” he asked, not realizing there was anything even remotely wrong with his plan.

“Seriously,” Belphegor confirmed.

“Reginald, you really should sell these,” Dwayne said as he began to carefully help return the heads to the drawer. “You’d make a killing. I’d buy all of them and… Oh my GOD.”

Dwayne froze and stared into the drawer.

“What?” I demanded, feeling very ill at ease. What the heck did he see?

“So you only make heads of women who fascinate you?” Dwayne asked, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Reginald.

“That and family,” he replied, glancing down at the drawer with a horrified gasp.

Reginald quickly shut the drawer and fiddled with his mustache nervously.

“Would you care to explain?” Dwayne asked in a don’t fuck with me tone.

“I suppose I have to,” Reginald said with a sigh. “However, it’s not prudent that she knows. Life will become insufferable for me.”

“That who knows?” I demanded.

“You,” Dwayne said, opening the drawer and pulling out a shimmering head that was the exact image of me.

“What the…” I gasped out, staring in shock at myself. “You’re fascinated with me?”

“No. God, no,” Reginald said and then shook his head. “You’re family… of a sort… kind of… in a roundabout way.”

“That’s news to me,” Granny said, warming up to have a go at Reginald.

“Reggie, you’re about as clear as mud,” I said, still staring at my tiny sparkly self. “Spit it out so I don’t think you’re a weirdo stalker and have to go apeshit on your ass.”

Hank growled low in his throat. Shit was about to get serious.

“Fine. You’re my goddaughter,” he snapped, handing me the glass image. “This is a gift for your parents. When I learned they were still alive… I made it.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Granny said with a laugh. “I never did get to meet you. Is your last name LaScootermanschitz?”

“It used to be,” he replied with a slight wince. “I dropped it and just go by Reginald these days.”

“Like Madonna,” Dwayne said with an approving nod.

“Yes,” Reginald agreed. “Or Beyoncé.”

“Or Cher,” Belphegor added.

“Exactly,” Reginald concurred. “I’m Reginald, the Mysterious Godfather of Essie McGee Wilson.”

“But you’ve always been such a dick,” I said and then slapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”

“Not to worry,” Reginald said with a resigned chuckle. “You are quite correct. I am a dick. I will always be a dick. However, I’ve watched over you from afar for years. It was my duty to your parents… and my pleasure.”

“So you do like me,” I shouted and pointed at him.

“Against my better judgment, I do,” he conceded with a small smile. “And your parents? I trust they are doing well now?”

I nodded and looked at Reginald. I was so tempted to tell him he was super cute when he smiled, but I didn’t. He really was a dick. But now he was my godfather dick. Life got more bizarre by the minute.

“They’re getting back to normal, slowly but surely. You should go see them.”

“Eventually,” he replied in a clipped tone. “Are we done with the pleasantries? I have work to do. The Bobs will be back tomorrow evening sometime.”

“That’s not gonna work for me,” I said, thinking he really was dick-ish. “How long does it take to eat at Red Lobster with Witches?”

“They’re in California,” he replied.

“At a Red Lobster?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Weird,” I said and then paused. My answer was right in front of me.

I didn’t need the Bobs at all. Reginald knew everything and he was a freakin’ Demon Hunter to boot. Also, he liked me… mostly.

“We found clues at the crime scene,” I told him, getting right to the heart of the matter.

He sat up straight and began to take notes. “Go on.”

“The states where the Jazz Cabbage outbreaks happened are represented on the wall,” I explained.

“Georgia—twice, Tennessee—twice and Texas?” he asked, taking it all down.

I nodded and went on. “And we think the Demon left a calling card.”

Reginald’s eyes narrowed to slits of fury and his fangs dropped. His growl was terrifying. Zeernebooch and Belphegor were taking no chances. They ducked under the couch.

“And the Demon’s name who did it?” Reginald inquired.

“We think it’s Obizuth,” Hank said, watching Reginald with great interest. “Have you come across her before?”

“Haven’t had the displeasure. She’s a mean one though,” he replied. “You have a plan?”

“Umm… hello? Is it safe here?” Zeernebooch called out from under the couch.

I glanced at Reginald who gave me a curt nod.

“Do not harm Zeernebooch or Belphegor,” I warned my godfather. “They are not the bad guys.”

“Define bad,” he shot back.

“Look,” Zeernebooch said, tentatively crawling out from under the couch. “I’ll freely admit to cheating and stealing.”

“And tax evasion,” Belphegor reminded him as he shimmied out of hiding and stood next to his father.

“Of course,” he acknowledged.

Belphegor wasn’t done yet. “And streaking on national television… and illegally fixing all of the gambling machines in Vegas so that you walked away with billions.”

“Correct,” Zeernebooch agreed with pride.

“And grand larceny. Ohhh, and stealing over ten thousand identities and opening up limitless credit cards with them,” Belphegor added.

“Are you done?” I asked with an eye roll.

“Actually, I could go on for weeks, but I think we hit some good highlights,” Belphegor replied, patting his pappy on the back.

“So as I was saying, while I’m a sticky-fingered bastard with an enormous man tool, I do not deal in drugs or physically harm the human population,” Zeernebooch finished.

“Ohhh, can I tell one more?” Belphegor asked.

“Sure, son.”

“There time you illegally repossessed twenty-five asshole millionaires’ estates and set the homeless up in style! Gave them cars that you’d stolen and sent over three hundred to college with money you underhandedly procured from Washington lobbyists who were jacking up the prices of medication for the poor! You spent a whole year in lockdown for that one.”

“Boy, that’s enough. Are you trying to humiliate me here?” Zeernebooch bellowed as he stomped around the room in a panic. “You are messing with my dastardly reputation. I’m trying to woo an insane hellion with tremendous traffic stoppers. I do not need you sharing embarrassing stories about me, for the love of everything evil.”

Zeernebooch was as nice as his son was… and he was mortified about it. It was all kinds of awesome. And adorable. The idiot grew on me even more.

“You earned yourself another fourth of a point for that one, jackhole,” Granny announced.

“I did?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“Yep. Keep that shit up and you’ll be in my pants in no time.”

“This is FABULOUS,” Zeernebooch shouted. “Shall we go to dinner now? I’d like to wine and dine my hellcat.”

“Umm… no,” I said with a groan of disbelief. “We have a mission and it’s now 3:00 a.m., dude. Not many restaurants open.”

“Right,” Zeernebooch said. “I got a bit excited that I’m half a point away from boning your grandmother.”

“There is so much wrong with that statement that I’m not sure what to say,” I muttered, trying not to laugh. The Demon courting Granny was every kind of crazy.

“Anyhoo,” he went on, oblivious to how wildly inappropriate he was. “Obizuth presents a problem.”

“Why?” I asked.

“She won’t tell us a thing and she’ll probably try to kill everyone,” Belphegor said. “She hates me and she hates Pappy even more.”

“Accurate point,” Reginald said. “Did you try raising the dead and questioning them?”

“No can do,” Dwayne said with a shudder. “If we do that, we’ll have a Zombie apocalypse. If you raise Weres who were violently out of control when they died, that is exactly what you will have to deal with.”

“Interesting,” Reginald said, reaching beneath his desk and pulling out what appeared to be an overnight bag. “Well then, Obizuth will have to talk. The threat of exposure is looming close. That is far more dangerous than an unhinged Demon.”

“How close?” I asked, wondering what he knew.

“According to Seth, the Dragon Seer, it is imminent unless we take action to stop it—twenty-four hours is his educated guess,” Reginald said. “I ask again, do you have a plan?”

“I was thinking we would wing it,” I replied, feeling my stomach clench at this new and horrible news.

“Of course you were,” Reginald said with yet another impressive eye roll. “Are we leaving Clark and Jones here?”

I gave him a thumbs up. “You bet your Cher head we are. The Boobs can take care of that hot mess. I’m done with them. And I’d like to point out it’s awfully irresponsible for the Boobs to be in California with the Witches when we are about to get wiped off the map of the Universe.”

“Do you have foot in mouth syndrome?” Reginald asked.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Not at all,” he replied.

“Not that I know of,” I answered, feeling chastised for something I had no clue I had done.

“Then think before you speak, child,” he snapped. “The Boobs, as you so fondly and somewhat accurately call them, are trying to cut a deal with the Witches that could save us. They are currently risking their lives and racking up one hell of a bill at Red Lobster.”

“Whoops. My bad,” I muttered contritely.

“I should say so,” my dicky godfather said. “So unless we want to be beholden to the Witches for centuries—which would almost be as bad as being revealed, we should try and solve this ourselves. Quickly.”

“Okay. Let’s go find another Demon,” Hank said.

“Beware of what you wish for,” Zeernebooch muttered as we filed out of the office.

I had no clue how correct Zeernebooch was… but I was about to find out.