“Feels like a fridge in here,” Granny said as we entered the chilly warehouse.

Not a thing had been changed or moved as far as I could tell. Blood and guts still spattered the walls and body parts lay in mangled heaps on the cement floor of the cavernous space. The scene was as gruesome and sickening as the first time I’d witnessed it. It was just a heck of a lot colder.

“Magic was used,” Zeernebooch commented as he began to circle the travesty. “A chill spell has been cast to preserve the bodies.”

“Who did it?” I wondered aloud as I glanced around for clues we might have missed.

Zeernebooch halted his pacing and placed his hands on his hips. “My guess is the Bobs. Seems like your boys might be practicing a little voodoo.”

“That’s possible?” I demanded. If it was, the Bobs had a whole lot of explaining to do.

“If they’re in cahoots with Witches, it is,” the Demon said as he examined the blood covered wall on the far side of the warehouse.

“Witches don’t deal with Shifters. Ever,” I said.

“Normally, no,” Belphegor agreed as he too carefully made his way to the far wall and stared at it. “However, blackmail works wonders with the Witches. Well, blackmail or gift cards to Red Lobster.”

“Wait. What?” I asked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “Red Lobster?”

“Yep,” Belphegor confirmed. “Witches love buttery seafood.”

That was a head-scratcher that I didn’t have the time to pursue. We had a shit show in front of us. My curiosity about Witches’ dining preferences would have to wait for another time.

“You think the Bobs are blackmailing Witches?” I asked, ignoring my need to discuss shrimp three ways.

Zeernebooch shrugged. “I think the Bobs would do anything to keep the Weres from being discovered by the humans. And personally, I’m quite pleased they had the foresight to chill the crime scene. Otherwise, it would have smelled like Hell.”

“Holy shit, Hell smells like rotting cadavers?” I asked with a shudder.

“Only Hell’s Cave in Slovenia,” Belphegor enlightened us. “Hell, Michigan is a bit iffy. But the worst is Hell, Norway.”

“I’d have to disagree,” Zeernebooch countered. “Hell Creek, Montana is quite pungent. Although the most eye-watering stinky of all time is Satan’s Kingdom, Massachusetts.”

“What about Hooker, Oklahoma?” Belphegor reminded his pappy. “I find it extremely rank.”

“Fine point, well made, son.”

“Hang on a second. What about the real Hell?” I asked, forgetting for a moment we were here for an actual reason. “You know, the fire and brimstone one—with Demons and Satan and really bad dudes burning in fiery pits.”

“Wouldn’t know. Never been there,” Zeernebooch replied.

I paused and realized my mouth was hanging open. “I am so confused.”

“I second that,” Hank said. “Exactly which Hell did you send Clark and Jones to?”

Zeernebooch eyed us for a long moment. Twice he began to speak and then stopped himself. It wasn’t until Belphegor nodded his encouragement did the elder Demon talk. “Hell is more of a state of mind than an actual place,” he explained.

“I don’t get it,” I said, wondering if the finer points of Hell had been taught on a day I skipped in high school. Skipping class was seriously kicking my ass.

“What is your worst nightmare, Essie?” the Demon inquired, staring at the ceiling.

The question was loaded. I wasn’t sure if he was looking up to avoid the carnage or me. Whatever it was, it was unnerving.

“Are you screwing with me?” I asked, a little worried to share what scared me the most with a Demon—even one that was growing on me.

“Not at all.”

“Losing the people I love,” I told him truthfully.

“There you go,” he replied with no emotion. “Multiply that feeling times a million. Relive it for eternity and you have your Hell.”

I mulled that over and wondered if he was shitting me again. But I didn’t think he was.

“So Hell is a state of mind?” Hank asked, trying to pin down the definition.

Belphegor nodded slowly. “To a certain degree, it is. Do not underestimate the power of the mind.”

“And Heaven?” Dwayne asked.

“Not that I enjoy speaking of Heaven,” Zeernebooch said with a put-upon sigh. “But reverse what I told you about Hell and there you have it.”

It was heavy and mind blowing information—if it was true. We were dealing with Demons here—not the most trustworthy of species. Zeernebooch had no reason to lie though. He had nothing to gain. However, there was a tremendous amount left unsaid. And unlike the buttery seafood conversation, I couldn’t let this one go.

“What about Satan?” I questioned. “Is everything I thought I knew wrong?”

“Soundin’ like it,” Granny muttered.

“Florida,” Zeernebooch replied with an eye roll. “Orlando. The evil bastard loves Disney World.”

“You are shitting me,” I choked out on a laugh. I was now certain that the dumbass was playing me. The baddest of all bad dudes loved the Happiest Place on Earth? No. Freakin’. Way.

“I shit you not,” the Demon replied with a crooked grin. “He rides Small World daily—even has one of those Fast Passes.”

That rendered me mute. It took a lot to leave me speechless, but the Demon had succeeded.

“G,” Granny whispered, pointing at the same wall the Demons had been staring at. “I see two G’s.”

“The letter G?” Zeernebooch asked. “Where?”

“There, jackhole,” she said, still pointing. “In the middle of the big O.”

“Like an orgasm big O or just a big O?” Zeernebooch asked her, waggling his brows.

The dude was an idiot or he had a death wish. And that’s when Granny belted the Demon. “No points for you. This is not the time or place to discuss gettin’ into my pants, Weiner Hooch.”

“But I…” Zeernebooch protested and then froze. “Fuck. You see the letter O?”

Granny squinted her eyes and focused on the wall. “Could just be a circle around the letters. There are more letters, but I can’t make ’em out.”

“I don’t see it,” Belphegor said, in a tone that made me uncomfortable. “Are you positive it’s an O?”

The chill in the room was now compounded by the feeling of mice skittering down my spine—frozen mice with pointy cleats. Something was playing out and it was not going to be pretty.

“Not sure,” she admitted. “I’m not real used to my x-ray vision yet. Might be my mind playin’ tricks on me.”

The two Demons exchanged wary glances. I’d had enough. Cryptic wasn’t working for me today or tomorrow or the next day…

“Stop with the loaded stares and spit it out,” I snapped, running my hands through my hair and preparing for something awful to be revealed. “You two are obviously thinking something. Say it.”

“Demons tend to leave a calling card,” Zeernebooch replied. “We’re not exactly humble. We like to be appreciated for our work no matter how appalling.”

“Who is the calling card from?” Hank cut in, clearly as hyped up as I was. “Do you recognize it?”

“Pappy,” Belphegor said, taking Granny’s hand in his and leading her to his father. “Touch Bobbie Sue. She might be able to see more clearly with some extra magic.”

Zeernebooch winced slightly and my unease increased.

“Nope. She’s already a Werewolf Vampyre,” I said in my outdoor voice, pulling my granny protectively back to me. “If you put black magic in her what will happen? And if you shit me even the tiniest bit, I will rip you up until you’re unrecognizable. I’ll start by shoving your head up your ass and pulling it back out of where your mouth used to be right before I tear it off of your body. Permanently.”

“That was fairly graphic,” Zeernebooch shot back with a grin.

“It was accurate,” Hank informed him flatly. “Explain any and all ramifications of putting dark magic in Bobbie Sue.”

As Zeernebooch started to speak, Dwayne lifted his hand to stop him. My BFF placed his fingers under Granny’s chin and examined her lovely face. Gently kissing her forehead, Dwayne smiled. “Bobbie Sue can handle it. Her Vampyre side is far stronger than her Werewolf side at this point… and it grows stronger every day.”

“I would never have suggested it if I thought there was a chance it would harm Bobbie Sue,” Belphegor insisted, fluttering his hands nervously. “Plus, I’m quite sure that during the disturbingly violent and strangely sexual altercation at the baby shower earlier, there was magic exchanged between Pappy and Bobbie Sue.”

“I don’t like it.” My stomach clenched and I wanted to throat punch both Demons. Losing my loved ones was my own personal Hell. There was no way I was going to give my permission to make it a reality. If there was even a small chance that Granny would be harmed, it was a no freakin’ go.

“You don’t have to like it,” Granny said, squeezing my hand that still grasped hers tightly. “I’m a grown-assed undead woman with a great rack. I’ve been around long enough to know what I should and shouldn’t do. Anyhoo, I already felt the jackhole’s magic and I’m still standing.”

“But I didn’t use magic,” Zeernebooch said, baffled. “The Demon Hunters said no magic. And let me tell you something, those Demon Hunters are scary. Even scarier than my she-devil soon-to-be girlfriend.”

“Might have pilfered some of your voodoo, Weiner Hooch,” Granny admitted with a sly smirk. “Call me curious.”

“Well, Curious,” Zeernebooch said, grinning like an idiot. “You are a cunning hellcat. I didn’t even notice.”

“That’s because you were too dang busy coppin’ a feel of my ass.”

“And a fine ass it is,” the Demon bellowed with a thumbs up.

This was getting ridiculous. “So you’re telling me that while you were wailing on each other—losing limbs, mind you—that you were stealing Demon magic?”

“ʼBout right,” Granny said with a chuckle. “I figured the idiot owed me since he was tryin’ to feel me up the entire time. Figured I might need a little of his Demon dust to best him.”

Zeernebooch gasped in admiration and bowed low to Granny. “I have to admit I was slightly taken aback at how easily you removed my legs with such bloody and vicious accuracy. Quite impressive—very boner-worthy. I was sure it was my obsession with your outstanding hooters that made me careless.”

“Pappy,” Belphegor cut in. “Hooters is not the best choice of word for wooing.”

“Boner-worthy wasn’t stellar either,” I muttered under my breath.

“Hooters isn’t a good term?” he asked, immediately covering his man jewels with his hands in anticipation of getting nailed again.

“Nope,” Dwayne said.

“Melons?” Zeernebooch suggested.

Granny shook her head and did a few deep knee bends as the Demon began to sweat.

“Umm… luscious scoops of flesh?”

“Better,” Granny told him. “But not quite right.”

“Cadillac bumper bullets? Or how about perky pillows of love? Or possibly humpty dumplings, odes to joy, or traffic stoppers?” Zeernebooch ended on a shout, doing his very best.

Which wasn’t all that good…

Granny laughed like the loon she was and slapped her knees. “I’ll take traffic stoppers for one hundred, Alex.”

“Sweet Hell in July,” Zeernebooch shouted in relief. “Traffic stoppers it is, my violent, Jeopardy-loving nightmare.”

Again, I almost forgot what we were doing due to the unconventional wooing style of my granny and her satanic paramour. But with one quick glance at the shredded body piles, I was jerked back into the gruesome reality of our situation.

“So you truly believe that giving Granny a hit of Demon juice will help her x-ray vision?” I asked, wanting all the facts before we did this.

Dwayne nodded. “Doll, do you remember how you felt after drinking my blood?”

“I do,” I answered. “Terrified and unsettled—but totally appreciative,” I added quickly so he knew how much he and his help meant to me.

Dwayne’s smile was sad. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close. “It’s because Vampyres have dark magic as well. When both you and Hank took my blood some of the darkness entered you. Now, let me be clear, I had no idea it would stay. However, I’d do it again in a heartbeat to keep you safe.”

I gently broke out of Dwayne’s embrace and stared at the bloodstained wall. Right now the blood belonged to Weres who had gotten involved in some dicey and deadly business with Jazz Cabbage. But soon it could be the blood of the innocent if the humans discovered we existed. My mind raced with images of Junior and Sandy’s baby who would join us in eight months. I could clearly picture Dima and Nicolai’s beautiful son, Daniel. And I thought about my ten babies that would become part of our world someday. Wait one farking minute… I was not blowing out ten little Werewolves. Hank was rubbing off on me in a big, bad way.

I stared hard at the wall, trying to see letters. I saw nothing but dried blood. A good leader knew her limitations. A good leader surrounded herself with people who could do things that she couldn’t.

I was a good leader. “Let’s do this,” I said. “If there’s a message on the wall, we need it.”

“As you wish,” Zeernebooch said, approaching Granny.

“Hang the Hell on,” Granny grunted with a laugh. “Are you freakin’ kidding me, Weiner Hooch?”

“What?” I demanded, concerned. I glanced over and realized that Zeernebooch was standing behind her with one hand on each of Granny’s traffic stoppers. “Is that really necessary?”

“I’m supposed to touch the hellcat to transfer the magic,” Zeernebooch pointed out with incredibly iffy logic.

“And you’re supposed to touch her boobs?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the horny idiot.

“Well,” he began, looking somewhat guilty but completely delighted at the same time. “As I see it, it will take me years to earn enough points to properly get into Bobbie Sue’s pants. So in the interim, while I gather these elusive and painful points, I feel it necessary to my sanity to cop a feel whenever I can get away with it.”

“Logical,” Granny said, adjusting his hands so they were right where she liked them.

Closing my eyes, I said a quick prayer that this wouldn’t degenerate into something that would require bleach to sanitize my eyes. What we needed was information. How we got it was immaterial. I could feel it in my gut that time was of the essence. If I had to watch my granny get felt up by a randy Demon… so be it.

I seriously needed a new job.

“Do it,” I ground out. “Transfer the magic and let Granny try to read the wall.”

I held my breath. Zeernebooch closed his eyes and began to chant in a dissonant and unrecognizable language. A glittering black mist floated through the room and landed silently on the sad and tragic scene surrounding us. Granny’s soft giggle was the only sound to be heard as the magic entered her system. The hushed sound bounced throughout the enormous room and brought a needed lightness to the somber setting.

“Focus and read,” Zeernebooch instructed with his hands still firmly attached to her traffic stoppers.

I was pretty sure his hands on her knockers were unnecessary at this point, but I stayed quiet. If Granny didn’t have a problem being groped by a Demon with her family and friends present, who was I to ruin her fun?

Granny narrowed her eyes and began to levitate slightly. Her eyes went red and she seemed to go into a trance. “Two G’s and three T’s,” she said in a hollow sounding voice.

“And the O?” Belphegor questioned.

“Large circle around the two G’s and three T’s. Could be an O or a circle,” she replied in the same voice as her body came back down to the floor.

“Illinois is missing,” Hank said.

“Missing from what?” I asked, not following.

“The states,” he replied grimly. “Georgia, Georgia, Tennessee, Tennessee and Texas—the locations of the Devil’s Lettuce outbreaks. But there’s no Illinois.”

My mate was all kinds of brilliant. “Oh my God,” I said, staring at him in wonder. “You’re amazing.”

“I like word puzzles,” he replied with a tight smile.

“Could the O stand for something else—maybe another state? Oregon? Ohio? Oklahoma?” Dwayne suggested.

“Possibly,” I said. “Hank, can you get Junior on the line and have him communicate with the Alphas in those states? Have them keep watch over their people and report immediately on anything unusual.”

Hank paced back forth as he called Junior. The call was quick and curt. Junior was on it and wasn’t surprised that the locations had been somehow instrumental. He’d said that from the beginning.

“I’m still not comfortable that Illinois isn’t in the mix,” Hank said. “Something isn’t right.”

“Maybe because we’re in Illinois they didn’t feel the need to include it,” Granny said with a shrug. “Weiner Hooch, you can remove your hands now.”

“Do I have to?” he inquired politely.

Granny shook her head and sighed. “You can touch my traffic stoppers for three more minutes,” she told him, setting the timer on her phone. “A second longer and you lose your salami.”

“Roger that,” he said with a laugh. “My hellcat has claws.”

Ignoring the freak show, I joined Hank in his pacing. It helped me think.

“Okay, even if the initials stand for the states minus Illinois, it still doesn’t help us,” I said.

“But if the next outbreak is in a state starting with O, we can be somewhat prepared,” Dwayne pointed out. “With Demon transport we can be anywhere within seconds.”

“Now there’s a puke-inducing thought,” I said, still wearing out the cement beneath my feet. “But you’re also correct.”

“Here’s what I think,” Granny said with Zeernebooch’s hands still cupping her bosom. “Even if that’s the case, we still don’t have answers. The only way I see us gettin’ answers before this happens again on an even larger scale is to raise a few of the dead.”

“Bad idea,” Zeernebooch said as Granny’s phone timer went off and he reluctantly let go of her traffic stoppers. “And I’m not sure that we need to do that.”

“Because?” I pressed.

“Because I do believe that the O is the calling card of the Demon responsible for this,” he said.

“You know the Demon?” Hank asked, tersely.

Zeernebooch nodded his head sharply and grunted in disgust. “I think I might.”

“And you can summon this Demon?” I asked.

“What is it with this summoning crap?” Zeernebooch asked, obviously confused. “Where do you people get this ridiculous information?”

“Umm… the internet,” I volunteered, sheepishly.

“For the love of everything unholy,” he groused. “When an idiot does a summoning, all you get is a ghost—a pissed off wanna-be-Demon ghost. A real Demon has a cell phone.”

“Today has been an information overload,” I muttered and then paused in thought. “Wait. What did you do before cell phones?”

“Homing pigeons,” Belphegor explained. “Took a while, but it did the trick.”

“Who is the Demon?” Hank asked, getting back on track after our hundredth conversational detour.

“I believe the O stands for Obizuth,” Zeernebooch ground out through clenched teeth as his horns popped out on his head.

“Oh shit,” I shouted. “Your mother? The baby killer?”

“I’m afraid so,” Belphegor said.

“So your ex-wife is responsible for this shit show?” Granny hissed, glaring at Zeernebooch.

“I was never married to the horrid woman,” he growled. “Demons aren’t into that kind of thing. It was an affair that produced the only thing I’m proud of in this long tedious life of mine.”

“Me? You’re proud of me?” Belphegor whispered as his golden eyes filled with tears.

“Now don’t go getting all weepy,” Zeernebooch bellowed, turning away from his son.

I was pretty dang sure he wiped a tear from his own eye, but I wasn’t about to point that out. I had a keen sense of self-preservation.

“I’m not a disappointment to you?” Belphegor asked, still sniffling.

Zeernebooch threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. “How could a son that has broken his pappy out of the pokey over a thousand times in the last century be a disappointment? That took big balls, son. I don’t care that you like dick. I love you even though your fashion sense is appalling and I’d rather claw my own eyes out of my head than listen to Barbra Streisand. I think Dwayne is an interesting choice for a mate—he’s alarmingly weird, but then again, so are you. I love you, boy. However, I won’t repeat my feelings. I’m not a weenie—even though my weenie is enormous. Maybe we can take a quick selfie to remember this historic moment. You can look at it when I’m an asshole to remind yourself that I have a huge schlong… no, wait… I meant, remind yourself that I love you.”

“You have certainly been incarcerated a shitload of times. And you are as windy as a sack full of farts,” Granny said, eyeing Zeernebooch like she wanted to jump his evil bones.

“Is that good?” he inquired cautiously.

“Yep,” Granny told him with a chuckle. “It’s real good, Weiner Hooch.”

“Do I earn a point?”

Granny considered the request and then shrugged. “You get five points for that one. And before you ask again… the answer is six.”

“This is fantastic,” Zeernebooch shouted, pumping his fists in the air. “My erections awaits you with great anticipation. You will not regret this decision, spitfire hellion of my dreams. I will bone you like you have never been boned.”

“Pretty sure I just puked in my mouth,” I mumbled with an eye roll.

“You still have to earn another point, jackhole,” Granny reminded him as she walked toward him, her hips swinging like a hooker on the prowl.

“So you just call Obizuth and she shows up?” I asked, looking away from my hot to trot Granny.

“Not that simple,” Belphegor admitted as he leaned his head on Dwayne’s shoulder. “We have to prepare. She is not a nice woman—at all.”

“Understatement,” Zeernebooch added with a shudder. “If your parents are willing, I’d suggest we have the Demon Hunters present when we do this.”

“They don’t hunt Demons anymore,” I reminded him.

He shook his head and laughed. “Once a Demon Hunter… always a Demon Hunter.”

“Fine,” I said as I sent a text to my parents. “Right now, I want to have a word with the Bobs.”

“You gonna to elongate some sphincters?” Granny asked with a wink.

“Possibly,” I told her.

“Can we all come?” Dwayne asked with a naughty little smile playing on his lips.

“Be my guests,” I replied, taking Hank’s hand in mine. “You ready, babe?”

“Born ready,” he replied with a sexy grin.

“Let’s do this shit.”