I was woken up by the blaring of Leo’s assigned ringtone to find myself laying half-sprawled over Rohan. He gave me an absent smile, his focus on the sheet music balanced on his knees.

Blearily, I reached for my phone, almost knocking over the Tiffany’s box with the sapphire necklace stashed once more inside. “Hello?”

“Have you been online this morning?” Leo asked.

Scrambling out of bed, I searched both of Ro’s closets until I found a housecoat to borrow. “Not yet. Why?”

I blew a kiss at him, closed the bedroom door behind me, and headed downstairs into the living room.

“Good. Don’t. Preferably ever, but definitely not for the next several weeks.”

I put her on speaker, typing my name into Google as fast as I could. The articles with the most views were the ones featuring me giving the finger with my sham engagement ring on. They were all headlined with some variation of “Rohan’s new fiancée doesn’t give a damn what you think of her.”

None of them were written by Tia. Fingers crossed that meant she was planning on showing to our rendezvous today.

“It’s not that bad,” I said. If this was the sum total of carnage as a result of our engagement stunt, I could live with that.

“If you really want to see the worst of it?” Leo sighed. “Go to page two of the search.”

“They dug up Stefan?” I shook the phone like I was wringing his scrawny neck. “That bastard. I was the one sleeping my way through campus? Hey, pot.” Sparks flew off my skin. “Did Cole say anything?”

“No. They asked him, but he’s keeping his mouth shut. Too much respect for you, he said. Speaking of respect, thanks for the bare minimum warning text, by the way. TMZ called me twice this morning.”

“I’m really sorry.” Leo could handle herself, but my stomach cramped up in a knot at the idea of reporters poking into who she was.

“The good news,” she said, “is that you’re even being gossiped about on the demon dark web. So this Tia is bound to hear about you.”

“Already meeting her. Wait. There’s a demon dark web and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know until today. Harry showed me. There is some deeply disturbing shit there.” Awesome. Even Harry, Leo’s ancient, curmudgeonly boss was keeping up with my bad press. On second thought, eh. That slander wasn’t great, but it wasn’t like his opinion of me could go much lower.

“Sleeping with me and Samson, were you?” Rohan stood in the living room doorway, naked, holding up his phone. “Poor guy. So devastated he killed himself over you.”

“Come oooooonnnn.” I buried my face in my hands.

“Hi, Ro!” Leo called out. “Don’t let her go any further down the social media rabbit hole, okay? It’s vicious.”

“Too late,” he said. “She’s looking for my–nope. Found my laptop.”

Leo made a “grrrr” sound. “Nee, please don’t take this personally.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s totally impersonal. Love you. Schmugs.”

“Schmugs,” she said and hung up.

Ro gently closed the laptop. “She’s right. Don’t do this. There’s no way not to feel hurt by the vitriol. Believe me. It’s part of why I quit doing my own social media.”

I moved his hand and pushed the lid up. “If I don’t look, I’ll sit here imagining way worse.”

Nope. I was wrong. I hadn’t come close to the bullshit being said about me.

Reading about my explicit starfuckery and gold-digging ways wasn’t the most pleasant experience, though I was stunned at how badly I was being slut-shamed when no one said word one about all the people Rohan and Samson must have slept with.

@MainMitraMistress led the charge against me on Twitter. She was one of Rohan’s superfans who had posted photos of Ro and Lily back in Prague and had thoughtfully reposted them now, along with a detailed opinion piece about why those two were the One True Pairing because Rohan could never be happy with someone whose vagina had more unique visitors than Google.

I abruptly shoved my chair back. “I’m taking a shower.”

I stood under the water, a sharp spray drumming down over my bowed head. I had to move past this because the only thing that mattered was stopping Tia. My stomach remained a pretzel until the water ran cold, but at least by that time my spine had stiffened the fuck up.

I bundled myself back into Rohan’s housecoat, following the scent of freshly cooked bacon. Sitting on one of the bar stools at the counter, I snagged an extra-crispy, curled piece from the plate. “Is this pity bacon?”

He leaned across the counter and kissed me. “It’s breakfast.”

I could have handled him making a joke, but his quiet compassion undid me. “I feel like dog shit on the bottom of humanity’s shoe.”

“Been there.” He pushed the bacon toward me.

I choked down another bite. “How did you deal with it?”

“I gave the finger to the world and became the biggest asshole I could. I doubled down on the emo, hit the alcohol hard, and topped it off with a callous disregard that got my cousin killed.” He munched on a piece of bacon. “I don’t advise it.”

“Wasn’t exactly my plan.” I padded out through the sliding glass door and curled up on the rattan loveseat, staring out at the city.

Even in my misery, this view was insane: all glimmering edges and bright sunlight, beauty that cut you like a knife.

Rohan sat down behind me, pulling me into his arms.

I wrapped them around me. “This bites.”

“I know you’re amazing. Your friends and family know it and the Rasha that matter know it, too.”

I laughed despite myself. “Nice qualification.”

“Made you laugh.”

I snuggled back against him. “Yeah. You pretty much make me happy on a regular basis.”

“I try.”

I elbowed him. “So this is the part where you tell me how happy I make you.”

My phone rang.

“Better get that,” he said.

I boffed my snickering boyfriend across the top of the head and went back into the living room to grab my phone.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“In theory.” Rohan and I had both texted our family and close friends last night about the plan so they didn’t wake up and have a heart attack about our fake engagement.

Esther had replied to my text with Don’t get hurt, idiot child. She wouldn’t have bothered if she didn’t care.

“Okay,” Mom said.

“Really? You’re not mad?”

“Well, I was worn out after yelling at three different news vans to stay out of my azaleas, but your father is in his element. He’s been out there for half an hour, all ‘no comment’ and ‘we love our daughter and ask you to respect her privacy.’”

“I’m sorry you’re being harassed.” For someone I’d spent so long at odds with, this protective instinct to keep her safe was weird but welcome.

“I’m sorry you’re being vilified. Remember that no one who matters believes any of the awful things they’re saying about you.”

I blotted my damp eyes. “Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Be careful. Hug your brother for me and tell him to phone.”

“Will do.”

My Saturday went further downhill after that auspicious start. Baskerville still wasn’t answering his phone and I waited for Tia by the crazy metal sculpture outside the red tiled building housing the Museum of Modern Art for over an hour while Ro patrolled the surrounding neighborhood. She was a no-show.

I stomped back to the Shelby, my foul mood made worse by the fact that we had to gun it to get to Zander’s funeral.

The funeral was an oddly strained affair in a cute yellow church with an understated decor. All the better to feature the enormous Jesus on the cross behind the pulpit.

Talk about fire and brimstone. It was a private service with Zander’s immediate family, Rabbi Mandelbaum, all the Rasha, and many of the DSI staff in attendance. Even Helen had come, her impeccable attire failing to hide her air of sorrow. She confessed she’d started seeing a Rasha-approved therapist.

The Evangelical pastor had an exceedingly low opinion of Zander, droning on about his numerous sins–mostly involving sex and drugs.

“Does he know Zander was out there fighting evil?” I whispered to Rohan. I wasn’t excusing what he’d done to Tessa, there was no excuse possible for torture, but he’d also done good in the world.

He shook his head. “Even his family didn’t know. They’d kicked him out years ago and hated that he was working for a Jewish security company.”

His prune-faced parents and older brother didn’t even look sad that he’d died. They nodded along with everything their pastor said while my group quietly fumed.

None of us were asked to get up and eulogize, but Rabbi Mandelbaum got up anyway. “I’d like to say a few words.”

The pastor hesitated a fraction of a second too long.

Mandelbaum took it as assent, barreling his way up to the pulpit to speak about this young man who’d had his troubles but who also had a deep well of compassion. Zander had volunteered helping socialize scared pitbulls rescued from illegal dogfighting rings to get them ready for adoption. Even at his lowest, struggling with addiction and cutting people out of his life, he never failed to write back to this seven-year-old-girl he’d saved once on a DSI job. Rabbi Mandelbaum had had to call the girl’s parents earlier today to explain why Zander wouldn’t be sending letters anymore.

The Rasha and DSI staff looked gutted; his family remained unmoved.

The anti-semitic distaste the pastor had for the rabbi was evident by how he looked like he wanted to sanitize his pulpit when Mandelbaum stepped down.

There had been many occasions illustrating shades of gray for me since I’d become Rasha, but none more so than this funeral.

A life riddled with challenges, where ultimately I couldn’t tell if the good outweighed the heinous.

A comrade, brother, and son, mourned and yet not.

A rabbi willing to hurt the many for his own gain, but with such compassion for a single person.

I twisted the program in my hands.

The weirdest part was when the pastor announced that only the family would be moving on to the cemetery. We were then expected to shuffle past the family offering condolences, while they stood there stiffly, barely deigning to shake hands.

If most of us looked baffled when we got outside, Rabbi Mandelbaum looked furious. “Tonight we memorialize Zander as well.”

Ethan’s body had been shipped back to Switzerland, but his memorial service was planned for this evening.

“You gave a beautiful eulogy,” I said to him. It somehow seemed important to acknowledge how much the rabbi cared about his Rasha. Most of his Rasha.

The rabbi studied me like I was a riddle he couldn’t figure out. “Thank you,” he finally said. “I appreciate how respectful you’ve been about our fallen brothers.”

“Of course. I may not have met them, but Ethan and Zander were my fellow Rasha.” What they’d done was awful too, but they hadn’t deserved the fates they’d met. I shook my head, helplessly. “I’m deeply sorry we lost them.”

A frown marred his brows. “You really feel that way, don’t you?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

One of his bodyguards called him over. Rabbi Mandelbaum threw me another puzzled look, then with a slight shake of his head, left.

Our memorial service for the murdered men was definitely more upbeat. Someone at DSI had booked the courtyard patio in an upscale restaurant nestled in the canyon. Twinkling fairy lights were strung through the branches, the food was simple and flavorful, and wine flowed freely.

There was a lot of laughter and, yeah, tears from even these most alpha of men in remembering their fallen fellow hunters.

Kane was behaving oddly, pricklier than usual and barely on this side of respecting the departed, cracking jokes that were neither appropriate nor funny.

Baruch approached Ari at our table and told him to keep an eye on Kane.

“I’m not his keeper,” Ari growled and stalked off.

Baruch cocked an eyebrow at me.

“On it.”

I dropped into the chair beside Kane, now sitting alone at a back table. “Hola, chamo.”

Kane glared at me. “Really? You’re parroting that Venezuelan asshole?”

“Bastijn is lovely. And not remotely the one being an asshole.” I smiled broadly and pointedly at him.

Kane poured us each a glass of crisp white wine, perfectly chilled and tapped his glass against mine in cheers. “To being an asshole. Takes one to know one, babyslay.”

There was no talking to him in this mood and while I wasn’t about to start a fight at a memorial dinner, I wished I knew how to help him through his hurt. “I’m over there if you want to sit with us.”

Kane glanced where I’d pointed, his wan smile faltering at Ari doing shots with Bastijn. “Pass. I’m not great company tonight. I’ve got to work later.”

“Okay. Thanks for the wine.” Picking up my glass, I kissed his cheek and made my way back to my boyfriend.

None of us could forget the circumstances of the Rasha’s deaths, but there would be plenty of opportunity for recrimination tomorrow. Tonight was about celebrating their lives and even though I hadn’t known these men, I was really glad to be included.

The meal and the memories lasted until well into the night, which probably wasn’t the best idea, given we had to be sober and presentable at Mount Sinai Cemetery in the Hollywood Hills for Rabbi Wahl’s service the next afternoon.

Rohan and I spent another night at his house but on Sunday morning we headed back to the bungalows in ample time to get ready, more bleary than bright-eyed.

I made Rohan swing by Demon Club en route in hopes of having something to contribute to the strategy meeting before Rabbi Wahl’s funeral.

Zander had been assigned to work with Ferdinand and he’d stayed extremely stoned after Tessa was tortured. He’d obviously been deeply upset by what he’d had to do, and unhappy, angry people often kept journals detailing their woes–or blackmail material.

While we heard people talking at Demon Club, we managed to avoid everyone until we got upstairs and peered around the corner to the short hallway where Zander’s room was located.

A Rasha stood guard outside the closed door. Not Oskar.

We flattened ourselves back against the wall.

“Bingo,” I whispered.

Mandelbaum wouldn’t post a guard if he wasn’t worried about what people might find in there. Possibly like whatever Ferdinand intended to hand over on the night he’d died, but hadn’t.

“I’ll distract him,” Rohan said. “You go in.” He crept down the stairs, this time whistling as he approached. He winked as he passed me. “Yo, do you know where at the cemetery the funeral is being held?” he called out.

I portalled into Zander’s room, letting my eyes adjust to the dark instead of opening the blinds or cracking a window to air out the stench of old socks.

On the other side of the closed door, Rohan was still chatting with the guard, though it was more a one-sided monologue punctuated with brusque answers.

Zander’s clothes were piled on the floor in heaps. Some looked flatter and ranker than others, so I checked pockets in those piles more quickly. With all this clothing strewn on the carpet, there wasn’t much left in his drawers. Some ratty T-shirts and a healthy stash of pot paraphernalia, including a couple of resin-caked pipes.

His few books didn’t reveal any secret documents.

Mandelbaum would have already searched the room but if the guard was there, he must not have found what he was looking for.

There was nothing under the bed or between the mattress and the frame.

I flung open the closet door, listening to Rohan being ordered away despite his best efforts to keep the guard engaged. I pushed the clothes aside and examined the walls for any indication of a hidden compartment. Zilch.

Next, I stepped into the center of the room, trying to think like Zander. He’s got hold of something that he shouldn’t. He’s worried. Paranoid? He’s definitely stoned.

I eyed the large carved hookah sitting on his dresser. The plastic pipe and mouthpiece had fallen off.

The bedroom door opened.

As the slash of light from the hallway washed over me, I snagged a couple wisps of Lilith’s magic from the hairline fracture, called up an electromagnetic field, and deflected the fuck out of that light to create an invisibility cloak. I refused to portal out before I’d checked the hookah.

The overhead light snapped on.

I didn’t dare to breathe, didn’t dare to move my eyes and check if it had worked. I could see Mandelbaum’s Rasha, but could he see me?

He looked around the room, but didn’t spot me.

Whoa. I was freaking invisible. Wait until I told Esther!

However, I didn’t know how to move around with the cloaking intact and I still took up space. In about six more steps, he’d knock into me.

Five…

Four…

He was wearing Old Spice.

Three…

I sucked in a breath, making myself as tall and thin as possible as his arm almost brushed mine.

Two…

“Pietr?”

The Rasha stopped and turned towards Mandelbaum’s voice. “In here.”

Rabbi Mandelbaum stepped into the room. “Why did you leave your post?”

Sweat ran down my back. Yay me for pulling this trick off, but I had no idea how long I could hold it.

I counted off the seconds while the Rasha told the rabbi he’d heard something, Mandelbaum told him he’d been imagining things, and they then discussed a few details about the funeral.

Ohmigod, shut up already.

At the forty-two second mark, my shield started to fail from my feet up.

It was dumb luck that they didn’t look down before leaving the room and closing the door.

I collapsed against the dresser, my entire body trembling as I shook the hookah. It was heavy and water sloshed around inside it. I held it up by my ear and shook it again. The water wasn’t just sloshing, it was quietly slapping against something.

I unscrewed the base, breathing through my mouth at the rank bong water, and flipped the carved body over. A tightly rolled paper encased in plastic had been stuffed up the hollow section. I didn’t bother examining it there, portalling out to Rohan’s car.

His hands were tense on the wheel. “Trouble?”

Other than using Lilith’s magic?

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I clicked the seatbelt in and sank back against the seat, gripping the roll of paper. “Let’s get out of here.”

After I’d showered, changed into funeral-appropriate clothing, and chugged back a bunch of electrolytes, we sought out Baruch. The larger bungalow where he and Ari were staying had been transformed into the proverbial investigation HQ. I suspected my brother’s hand in the set up because Ari was mad for crime dramas.

War was in the air. A sharp bite in the wary looks and tense conversations, along with a gut-twisting certainty that Sienna’s attack had set a snowball of events in motion.

One wall had been cleared of artwork to make room for a giant whiteboard upon which was taped photos of all the major players, divided into one of two columns. Either they sat under Mandelbaum’s photo or Sienna’s, though most everyone was posted under the rabbi’s photo as confirmed or suspected Rasha or rabbis. My brother had written “zealot minion” for each of Mandelbaum’s posse in his neat printing.

Sienna’s associates were limited to Ethan and Tessa.

String and pushpins were used to connect various people, like Tessa to Ferdinand or Ethan to Mandelbaum.

Any known motive had been written down in dry erase marker under the photo. While there was a detailed agenda for Mandelbaum, only the word “revenge?” was ascribed to Sienna. It wasn’t enough to find Sienna before Mandelbaum did; we also had to untangle how everyone fit together.

Danilo and Cisco were on their phones, checking in with trusted Rasha and getting flight details.

Bastijn stood next to a large map of Los Angeles hung on another wall, consulting a list of places pinned along the side and marking off the ones where they’d already searched for Sienna. They’d combed the city, even intimidating various demons, hoping for any bead on her whereabouts, but she was a ghost.

Baruch was on his phone as well, deep in a rapid-fire Hebrew conversation. Rabbi Mandelbaum’s screaming voice was bellowing out of the other end.

It had to be killing him to be stymied by the witches.

Ari waved us over to the large conference table that had replaced the sofas. He dug through a stack of color-coded files, each one neatly marked with the name of one of the players.

“Check it out.” He slid an orange folder with Rabbi Wahl’s name over to me. “Oh, and hey, Nee?” He tugged on his earlobe. “Fuck those reporter scum.”

“Thanks, Ace.” I scanned the top sheet summary and whistled. “Wahl is Ex-Mossad?”

“Part of an assassination cell,” he said.

“How did you get this?” Rohan asked. “It’s got to be classified.”

My brother jerked his chin at Baruch, his eyes gleaming in fanboy adoration. “Dude has friends in high places.”

Rohan tapped a date typed on the paper. “Wahl came to L.A. two years ago, but he left the Mossad ten years ago. What’s he been doing all that time?”

Ari dug out another couple of pages and lay them on the table. “Not proof, just conjecture. This is a list of everywhere we could place him. And this?”

It was a half-dozen news clippings about the deaths of politicians, high-ranking military, and behind-the-scenes powers players around the world. They matched up with Wahl’s travel.

“Mandelbaum has a hit squad?”

All activity screeched to a stop. Like I heard the record scratch. Everyone stared at me.

“Care to repeat that? I don’t think they heard you in the main house,” Rohan said. “Do you think that all of his crew was involved in shit like this?”

“Yeah.” Ari tapped the pages into a neat line. “You know what this means, Nee? Ilya was no innocent. With everything he’s done, Mandelbaum wouldn’t have had him taken out for just being spacey the past few days. This isn’t on you.”

He meant well.

“It’s a clusterfuck out there.” Cisco tossed his burner phone on the table. “All the chapters are edgy. Rumors are floating around of attacks that never materialize.”

“Sienna is playing cat and mouse,” Bastijn said.

“I hate being the mouse,” Danilo grumbled.

“Anything on the coroner’s report?” I’d passed on the information Raquel had given me the night of Zack’s event.

“The estimation of when Tessa got those bruises matched up with the fight Zander and Ferdinand had,” Ari said. “We spoke to the witch that handled the autopsy for Raquel and she admitted that Sienna had contacted her soon after Tessa’s death for the same autopsy request. When she heard that the head of the coven here had already asked for it, Sienna thanked her politely and said she’d get it from Raquel. But here’s the thing. The witch said that when she was doing the autopsy, she had the strongest sensation of being watched.”

“She probably was,” I said. “Either Sienna was there cloaked somehow, or she’d put something in place to alert her. Magical tracking wouldn’t be tough for her.”

Baruch clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Rabbi Wahl’s funeral has been postponed until 3PM. They’re expecting a large turnout and want it to be the last funeral of the day.”

There went my Sunday.

“Next item,” Baruch said. “Rabbi Mandelbaum has called the Executive and the other rabbis to Los Angeles for a meeting on Tuesday. We don’t know if his men have found Sienna, but everyone needs to be prepared for an acceleration of events.”

“Are we going to be present at this meeting?” Cisco asked.

“We haven’t been invited, which doesn’t mean I’m not going.” Baruch’s blue eyes darkened in menace and my heart leapt into my throat.

I held the folder up like it could protect me if he raged out.

“It’s my chance to see who his allies are,” he said. “The second we have hard proof of what he’s done, we’re forcing him and the Executive out. No more rabbis in leadership and Rasha on the street. The Brotherhood needs to be more collaborative and hunters need to take a more active role.”

He got my vote for leader. The other men nodded at his words.

I half-raised my hand. “I checked Zander’s room. I was hoping for details about what they were up to or even where Wahl and Ferdinand had been conducting their business. Mandelbaum’s men were modifying demons, but we still don’t know where.”

“There has to be some kind of base,” Rohan said.

“I looked as well,” Bastijn said. “I never found Zander’s laptop and his phone got destroyed in the attack.”

Mandelbaum must have confiscated the computer the second he got to Los Angeles.

“I did, however, find this.” I pulled two sheets of stapled paper out of my pocket, unfolded them, and smoothed out the crease. They smelled faintly of bong water.

Cisco peered over my shoulder. “A lease agreement. Who’s Millicent Daniels?”

“Millicent is Sienna’s birth mother. Someone went to the trouble of continuing a lease in a dead woman’s name. Probably Tessa, and now likely where Sienna has been hiding out.” I explained about Tessa and Sienna growing up in the same foster home. “I bet this was what Ferdinand wanted to give to Mandelbaum. We dodged a bullet.”

Cisco put his two fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. “Heads up, people. We have an apartment to check out.”

“You can’t go,” I said. “It’s too dangerous.”

Danilo kissed each of his massive biceps. “Bring it.”

“I’m serious. You guys are no match for a witch with dark magic. Not to mention there could be deadly wards on this place that none of us can sense. Don’t underestimate Sienna. We need to be smart about this.”

“How?” Cisco said.

“Let me call in my friend. Dr. Gelman.”

“The one that helped induct Ari?” Bastijn crossed off the last area on the list of possible Sienna hideouts. “Can she be trusted on this?”

“I trust her with my life. She can check out the apartment with me and if need be, we’ll call in reinforcements.” I’d need the other witches here for my Lilith extraction anyway.

“You don’t mean us, do you?” Bastijn said.

“Nope. Ladies-only on this one.” Stepping outside for a bit of privacy, I quickly updated Esther on what we’d found.

She agreed that she should be there with me. Apparently, Rivka had gotten back from London with the vessel to contain Lilith, so Esther would bring that along. Afterwards, we’d meet with the other witches and we’d get Lilith out of me once and for all.

Oh… good. “When can you get here?”

“Hmmm.” I heard the clacking of a keyboard. “I can get a flight tomorrow afternoon. I don’t want to portal because I’ll need all my strength.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see you then. And, Esther?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad you’re coming. I miss you.”

“Sentimental nonsense,” she said. “You just saw me days ago.”

She totally missed me too.