How dare he laugh at my Smart car?

I planted my hands on my hips—in a gesture wincingly reminiscent of my mother—and glared at him. “Stop laughing. This is not funny.”

He pointed. “That is not a car.”

“It is indeed a car. My car. And I don’t appreciate your disparagement of what is a very environmentally friendly choice.”

“It’s a little can on four wheels. You would be better protected riding a bicycle with a helmet.

“A car isn’t supposed to be a moving tank.”

“I disagree.”

“Let me guess, that’s your truck?” I gestured to the military-grade Hummer parked out front.

“It is.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little overboard?”

“A man in my position can’t be too safe.”

“You’re killing the planet with your gas-guzzling beast.” I inclined my head at his hulking metal machine.

“It won’t be the release of carbon into the atmosphere that destroys the world.”

“How would you know?”

“Because, according to the ancient texts I studied, the coming apocalypse will.”

“Apocalypse?” I snorted. “For a man of supposed intelligence, you need to stop reading the Bibles written in the past. We all know it was a time of suspicion where everything, even a priest farting, was a portent.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t mock the butterfly effect.”

“Don’t mock my car.”

“I won’t when you get a real one.”

The man insulted me, yet I didn’t get mad. I could hear the teasing undertone. If I didn’t know better, I’d even say he flirted.

A wizard flirting with a witch? Unheard of. That was grounds for ostracism. There were strict rules about wizards and elves and other races muddying the bloodlines with humans. It totally made a girl want to run up to the most uptight wizard in a robe and lick his cheek while yelling, “Human cooties!”

It might be worth getting banished for life just to see their faces.

“Where are we going?” I asked. Because, despite his teasing, I did want to know what he’d found.

The great Fitzroy, or at least his probably paler imitation son, wouldn’t have been called in by the TDCM over nothing.

What had Morfeus—that sly asshat—found that he hadn’t shared?

“You choose the place,” he said. “I’ll follow and try not to squish you.”

“The wheels on that thing are so jacked, I’d probably slide under,” I muttered, getting into my car. It was only slightly disconcerting to have him riding my tail—more like looming over it.

We ended up at a seafood and steak place where my dinner companion—not a date no matter how hard my nipples pointed through my bra—proceeded to devour an ungodly amount of food.

Now, it should be noted, I wasn’t a lightweight when it came to eating. I had a healthy appetite, and my save-the-planet altruism didn’t extend to meat. I needed protein in my world. And bacon.

But my ability to eat paled in comparison to his. He even put my brothers to shame.

“How many hours a day do you work out?” I asked, because he obviously did something to keep from turning into a giant butterball. Or was his handsome exterior an illusion?

“Intentional exercise?” He scoffed. “Only laggards have time for such things.”

“Then how do you not turn into a blimp?”

He shrugged as he shoveled more food in. He swallowed before answering. “I feed my body the amount of fuel it needs.”

“That’s a lot of fuel,” I noted.

“I am a very active man.” The toothy smile made my stomach go into a gymnastic feat of flips that finished with a wet splash between my legs.

“You’re also a very tight-lipped man. I came to dinner because you promised to give me information.”

“And I will share, but first, I am curious about the evening the Peabody house was eradicated. Could you tell me what happened?”

“I thought you read the reports.”

“I did; however, a stale report can never replace the actual testimony of a witness. Sometimes speaking about something can jog the memory of details that were previously missed.”

A valid point. “I’ll tell you, but then I want to know what you found.”

“Deal.”

“It all began when a civilian went missing at the Peabody house.”

Alistair nodded. “Brenda Whittaker. She was reported as missing, her vehicle located outside the Peabody home by a pack unit.”

Pack unit meant Dale, the Alpha of a local Lycan group, and his buddies, Sebastian and Mike. They were werewolf shifters, and a pair of them, at least, worked with law enforcement.

I nodded. “It was Dale who called in the disappearance and the suspicious appearance of the Peabody house.”

“Morfeus assembled a team to check on it.”

“Morfeus assembled his buddies to check it out,” I corrected. “Dale happened to call me and let me in on what was happening.”

“And how did Dale find out?”

“Police dispatch got called. Apparently, the neighbors got suspicious about the place. It went from looking pristine and perfect to falling-down decrepit.”

His intent gaze and apparent genuine interest made it easy to talk to him. He didn’t display any of the mockery or give any of the insults I’d gotten used to. “The file didn’t have any images to show the condition of the home. Can you elaborate on what the neighbors saw?”

“I can’t give you a basis for comparison. That night was the first time I’d visited the Peabody home in person. So I have no idea what it looked like before. All I know is that when I pulled up, it appeared as if the yard hadn’t been tended in years. The grass was dead and yellow. The house itself had peeling paint and curled roof tiles. If I’d not seen pictures of it after the minor fire—”

“—a fire Peabody set.”

“Yes. He wanted to burn down the house and get rid of the thing possessing it. But the damage from the fire was minor. Just a singed porch, apparently.”

Alistair leaned back and appeared thoughtful. “Interesting. Whatever problem occurred within the house caused it to alter its appearance. A force that knew enough to project a glamour showing that nothing was awry while it siphoned off the energy of the home.”

“The energy?” I frowned at him. “What do you mean?” I hated asking, but as Mother said, you only learned by asking questions.

“Everything has energy.”

“I thought that only applied to living things.”

“Were the materials of a home not once living? The wood, the fabrics, everything but stone, is harvested, and while not as potent as when alive, the lingering energy is there for consumption.”

“What you’re saying is that whatever infested the house ate it.” It sounded dumb to say aloud, yet he nodded his head.

“It used some of the energy it imbibed to camouflage its actions.”

The question I had was, “Did it do so as an automatic defense mechanism, or because of conscious thought?”

He shrugged. “A bit of both, I’d wager. Survival is always one of the prime directives of any species. Once the predator took root, its first order of business was to protect itself.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “Conquer using the observed possession techniques. Grow. I would imagine, had it been left unchecked, it would have spread past its current boundary into adjacent homes. Preparing for the event.”

“Event? Are you talking full-scale invasion? Via some kind of dimensional portal in that house?” Saying it aloud didn’t make it sound any more real. “That’s nuts.”

“Do you have a better explanation?” His blue eyes met mine, steady and serious. “Look at the evidence. We have a sudden infestation of…let’s call them parasites, coming into the world, attached to hosts. How are they getting here?”

“They could have been in hiding all this time like the rest of the supers.”

His brow arched. “Do you really believe these bloodthirsty creatures have been amongst us all this time, behaving?” His sarcasm curled around the words.

“They do seem kind of out of control.” At least the ones I’d met. “But that doesn’t make them dimension-jumping creatures. Could be some land developer dug in the wrong spot and freed them from some long-lost cavern?”

He gaped at me, incredulous at my logic obviously—and courtesy of all the horror movies I’d watched as a kid. As a witch, I felt it was my duty to prepare myself for any possibility.

“They did not crawl out of a cave. They come from another dimension. A different world.”

“Says you.”

“Says the evidence.”

Either he lied, or the demons weren’t from here. But if that were the case, how did we stop them from infiltrating?

“How do we stop them?”

“By finding the holes and sealing them.”

“Blowing up more houses. Got it.” Except I didn’t get it. Who knew to destroy the Peabody house? “So I guess we watch for news of haunted houses and people going a little batty. Then we swoop in and slam it into the ground.”

“It won’t always be that noticeable. Keep in mind, the rips and the entities coming through them are in survival mode. They’re hiding.”

“Which makes me wonder, how come we never detected the glamour?” I leaned forward. “Surely it emitted some kind of magical frequency.”

“Not all magic is detectable.”

“No. However, something of this magnitude, and cast on an inanimate object, should have created some kind of vibration on an esoteric level,” I prodded. I should have seen something. Anyone with magic should have, yet not one person, not even I, saw a haze in the air.

“You’re right. Usually, there would be some kind of trace. Yet no one has admitted to seeing anything. So either everyone who visited that home is incompetent, or they willfully lied.”

“Or the magic was too subtle,” I added. “Which raises an interesting question. Can you hide magic with magic?”

“Does it matter?”

Yes, actually. If the portals to this other realm siphoned energy and, as part of their nature, hid, then it was one thing. But what if it wasn’t the rip doing the hiding? What if it was sly and intentional?

I’d assumed, as had others thus far, that the demons were mindless, murderous creatures, but what if they were something more than that? What if they were intelligent?

I must have shivered because he asked, “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine.” Fine, but not ready to speak aloud my theory about smart demons. Bad enough we discussed interdimensional rips in time and space. “We seem to have gotten off track. You were asking about the house. I pulled up, and I remember it was dark. Very dark. The streetlights weren’t working.” It could only mean bad things. I didn’t need a movie to tell me that.

“So how could you see?” he asked.

“The headlights on my car showed me how wrecked the front yard was.” The twin beams added a surreal effect to the dead lawn, especially where it bordered the lush green grass of its neighbor. “I remember getting out and seeing Morfeus on the sidewalk.” My brow wrinkled. I’d seen him standing there and turning to face the house because the door was opening. But who came out?

We were all outside at that point. I, Morfeus, and his crew, even Brenda and her werewolves were safely outside. So who did that leave?

We never did recover a body for Peabody’s wife.

“You just thought of something,” Alistair prodded.

It startled me that he’d guessed so accurately. I caught his gaze and couldn’t look away.

What mesmerizing blue eyes he had, with a hint of something in the center of them.

I found myself speaking without even realizing it. “There was someone in the house.”

“Who?”

“I—I—” I felt like I knew the answer. It was right there, hiding behind some cobwebs in my mind, but no matter how I tried to brush them aside, I came up empty-handed.

“Was it male? Female? Something else?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I remember the front door opening. Red.” Redder than my own hair. “And a feeling of…” Skin prickling, ozone in the air, a hushed anticipation and stomach-clenching fear. “Danger.”

“Danger from what?”

“I don’t know. Everything goes fuzzy after that.” As if someone had thrown a blanket over my memories. “The next thing I know, I’m standing on the sidewalk—”

“In the same place?”

A gnawing of my lower lip helped me concentrate. “No, actually. I was closer to the house, what was left of it. There was smoke billowing, and flames. Such pretty blue flames.”

“Blue?”

“Yes, blue, which means they were magically induced. But none of us recall doing it. And I’ll be honest, I don’t think Morfeus has the kind of power it takes to fuel blue flames of that magnitude.” Most wizards could create fire, regular orange flames, the kind that singed and burned. However, the blue kind that eradicated not only a house but also the very stone within it, could also eliminate magic.

“Who was there at that point?”

“Still the same people. Brenda and the wolf pack. All three of them. Morfeus and his guys—two of them—were there, too; although they looked a little worse for wear.”

“Did you all suffer the time lapse?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know it at the time. Initially, I didn’t even realize I’d lost minutes. Everything was so chaotic, especially once the firemen arrived.” While hunky, they’d served no practical purpose. A magical fire couldn’t be put out by conventional means.

“Did you stick around?”

“Only for a few minutes. I didn’t want to get caught up by human authorities. So I employed a tiny spell of look-away, hopped in my car, and left.”

“Alone.”

“Yeah, alone. Except for my cat.”

“You brought your cat with you to a scene of possible demonic activity?” He arched a brow.

“I’m a witch. We need familiars.”

“Most don’t carry them around.”

“True, but Whiskers is just a kitten. I’d adopted him earlier that day and hadn’t yet gotten him home.” My cute little baby furball. I recalled being so glad he’d remained safe in my car that night.

“Back to the house and the door that opened.”

“I already told you, I don’t remember anything. And I’ve given you enough.” I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms. “Your turn to spill something.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” was my blunt reply.

“A broad request. Perhaps you could fine-tune it.”

“What’s the newest thing to come in on the demon situation?”

“I received the complete autopsy results on Peabody this afternoon.”

My sources sucked; either that or I needed to up my bribes. “And what did the report say?” I leaned forward.

“Nothing. Whatever possessed him left no physiological trace.”

“What of a magical one?”

He shrugged. “None that the examining elders could find. But they are still running tests. A pity we didn’t get him in a lab before he expired. We might have seen more.”

“Didn’t the elders”—elven wizards so old that people just fawned over them wherever they went—“visit him while he was in the sanatorium?”

“As if they’d stoop to visiting a Lycan-run facility.” Alistair rolled his eyes.

I could understand his mockery. The fights between the species were, at times, ridiculous, and in this case, misplaced.

The Lycium Institute had been created by the Lycan clans to deal with natural-born werewolves who couldn’t handle their altered state. It wasn’t easy for someone born and raised as a human to suddenly discover his never-before-met daddy had left him a little genetic surprise.

Then there were those who just went crazy. Since they couldn’t exactly blend in with the human patients, they needed a special place to go where they wouldn’t automatically be killed.

When they discovered that Peabody had issues, they’d sent him to Lycium since they were the best equipped to handle him. Except no one anticipated the level of crazy they’d have to deal with.

“I went to see him once before he died.” Before he’d turned catatonic.

“Peabody?” Alistair stopped drumming his fingers. “Did he say anything?”

He had, but it was more how I felt when in his presence that stuck with me. It still made me shiver to remember the man. The thing inside him looking out of his eyes.

I’d had to jump through hoops just to get in.

Upon arriving at the institute, the attending doctor had taken one look at my flame-red hair and said, “Oh, hell no. No red allowed.”

Having been discriminated against before because of my looks and subjected to profiling like the person who assumed I had a wicked temper—totally true—I wasn’t completely shocked by the blatant rejection. Usually, they at least pretended to hide it.

While not hurt by the doctor’s rebuff, I had wavered on the side of insulted. “There is nothing wrong with red hair. As a matter of fact, did you know redheaded people tend to score higher on the intelligence meters?” I admit I made that up. The actual truth of the claim was still a mystery I didn’t bother looking up. Why, when I personally knew it for a fact?

The doctor had looked apologetic. “Love the hair, but you can’t see Peabody with it showing.” It was interesting to note that Frank, as stated on the tag, wore a lovely wig in a shade of platinum, brilliant blue eyeshadow, and a peach-hued gloss. He also bore a full beard.

At the time, I remembered thinking I needed to up my game since Frank’s phone kept pinging, the brief flashes of messages distracting with their, Hey, hottie. See you tonight. Wear that little dress.

Frank was getting more action than I was.

But I wasn’t there to find a man—that was reserved for Sunday night dinner at my parents’ house where my mom tried to set me up with every single guy she ran into.

My mother appeared quite perturbed that her only daughter hadn’t managed to settle down and pop out a handful of kids already.

Apparently, I needed to do my part. I didn’t see why she couldn’t bug my brothers about ensuring the continuity of our family name.

But, anyhow, Frank—who smelled more expensive than my Dove soap—proceeded to explain how the color red set Peabody off.

Not exactly eager to tease a demon-bull, I borrowed a hooded sweater from him and raised it over my head.

My pride and glory was hidden, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Shouldn’t it be my choice what I hid from the world?

A fear of scalping by a crazy man made the decision for me.

Due to his violent outbursts, they’d restricted Peabody to his room, a big, padded one.

When I walked in, he was on the ceiling.

Not hanging from it, but literally on the ceiling, hanging upside down, clinging to it crablike.

Kind of freaky, especially since it was happening for real and not in a movie.

Staring up at him, I really questioned my decision to go see him.

Why did you go? What did you hope to find out?

The questions slightly jarred my recollection. Who was that talking to me? Seeing into my mind?

Shhhh. It’s no one. Keep talking.

Don’t you mean remembering? Remembering how Peabody’s head had canted at an unnatural angle. How his eyes, the whites of them gone, were black, bottomless pits, and in their depths...

Shiver.

I didn’t like to attribute good or evil to things. Not without knowing them at least, but that thing, and it was a thing at that point, no person left inside, it screamed one absolute.

Evil.

If I’d had a crossbow, I would have probably shot him with it.

And then found a sword to take off its head.

As it was, I raised my hands to cast a protective shield when it spoke.

What did it say?

The teasing words had emerged on a low-timbered hiss. “If it isn’t the witch come to say hello. Did no one warn you what a lovely snack you make?”

The comparison to food and me particularly bothered. I knew demons liked witches. But Peabody, as yet, hadn’t fully changed. For some reason, his demon was stuck inside.

Why do you think he was stuck?

Because he’d not yet eaten enough witches. I think the hunger of his demon was what made Peabody snap. He’d been contained before he could fully possess his body.

He was stuck in between states. Not man, not beast.

And it hungered.

What else did it say?

The insistent questioning snapped me out of the fugue state I was in.

I glared at the man across the table. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

The man aimed for innocence, but I knew better. I saw right through it. “I mean, what the fuck are you doing compelling me to share my memories?”

For a moment, I thought he’d deny it again.

“I needed to find out certain things.”

“Why not just ask? I have been telling you everything I know.”

“Telling me what you think you remember you mean. I need more than that.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to muck around with my head.” I glared.

“Actually, the High Council has given me wide leeway in dealing with this matter. I don’t have time to play games, Willow. I am only here for one reason.”

“To mind-fuck me?” I’d stopped being nice the moment I realized what he’d done.

“These are grave times. If your world—”

“‘Don’t you mean our world?”

Finally, he looked agitated. “Can you stop speaking for a moment while I explain?”

“No. Because you should have explained before you laid a whammy on me.” Standing, I made sure to look as angry as my red roots could manage when I spat, “Good luck finding the demon. Better make it sooner rather than later, though, because, while you wizards are dicking around, you all seem to forget something. Demons don’t just enjoy witch blood.”

And with that, I stomped off.