“I should be angry at you for knocking me out like that,” I said. “But all I want to know is, can you force me to do things other than making me sleep?”

His gaze met mine briefly, then pulled away. “If I could, you can be assured that I would have by now.”

I could hear no lie in his words, and relief slithered through me. I pushed rather stiffly upright and said, “I’m gathering nothing happened?”

“Plenty happened,” he said, his voice harsh. “But it wasn’t the sort of action we seek.”

I glanced at him sharply. “You’re angry.”

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

He flicked a hand toward the other room. “What happens in that room is beyond an abomination. Yet there is nothing I can do about it.”

“Reaper rules?”

“Reaper rules,” he agreed grimly. “Sometimes, I wish—” He stopped, then shrugged. “But I cannot. This perversity is one of human nature, and therefore it is something I am not able to stop.”

I swung my feet off the other chair, wincing a little as stiff muscles protested the movement. “Why the anger now? Why not before, when we first discovered the truth about this room?”

“Before there were merely words and ghosts. Tonight, there was death, and a soul being set free by the brutal death of her body. Blood whores may be well aware of the risks involved in their addiction, but those who work here are not. It goes against every instinct to simply stand here and listen to that happen, Risa.”

I studied him for a moment, wishing I could comfort him but not exactly sure he would welcome it. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted. “This atrocity was not of your doing.”

No, but I was the reason he was here to witness it. I sighed. “I’m gathering the Rakshasa didn’t appear?”

“No. But Hunter is right—it is still in its feeding stage. It will appear sooner or later.”

Great, except I didn’t have much of a later, thanks to the council threatening to kill me if I didn’t catch this thing within the next seventy-two hours. And six of those hours had already slipped by. “What will we do if it doesn’t appear tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know.” He hesitated. “But the council will not kill you. I will ensure that.”

I smiled. “Because you need me alive to find the keys, right?”

I said it teasingly, but his only response was a flash of annoyance. He pushed away from the wall and said sharply, “Marshall comes.”

“Azriel—”

The door opened before I was entirely sure what I’d been about to say. Marshall appeared, smelling and looking a whole lot fresher than I did. “I take it our Rakshasa did not make an appearance?”

He said it testily, as if it were our fault. “If it had,” I retorted, standing up, “we wouldn’t still be fucking here.”

His eyebrows rose at my tone. “My, my, a little irritable this morning, aren’t we?”

“I’m stiff, sore, and tired, and I just want to get out of this house of horrors before I’m tempted to violence.”

Amusement touched his thin lips. “That would not be wise in this place. Not if you wish to leave it alive.”

“Marshall, you have no idea just what I’m capable of. Now, can we cut this dance and just get out of here?”

His gaze skimmed me before it slipped to Azriel. He might not be worried about me, but the same could not be said when it came to my reaper. He shrugged and said, “This way.”

The smell of antiseptic was stronger out in the main room, but it wasn’t fully cleaned. I tried to ignore the broken bits of humanity that still lay scattered about the floor, but I could hardly ignore the stench of blood and the horrified moaning of the ghosts. Not when I was forced to walk through them. It was a wall of misery and fierce anger, and it cloaked me like a shroud, suffocating me.

Somehow, I controlled the urge to run. Somehow, I got out of that hellhole without giving in to the desire to draw Amaya and shed some blood and body parts myself.

I glanced at my watch when we got to the street above. It was barely six, far too early to go get those tickets from Mike.

“I think I’ll go back to the hotel and grab a shower, and then I’ll need to shop for tonight.” I glanced at Azriel. “Do you need to visit Jak to assume his identity?”

“Yes.” His expression was back to giving little away. “But I can do that later, once you are safely back at the hotel.”

I nodded and dragged out my phone to call a cab. Amazingly, it arrived within a couple of minutes and in no time at all I was back at the hotel and washing the stink of death from my body.

The rest of the day went by quickly. I shopped for clothes and shoes, purchasing not only items for the gala, but enough to see me through several more days. Then I bought a new cell phone and headed to Mike’s to grab the tickets. He wasn’t in, so the stay wasn’t long. I rang Jak on the way back to the hotel.

“Okay, I have the tickets in hand,” I said.

“Good.” He hesitated. “I did a little more research on Mr. Elusive. It appears the real Nadler was married fifteen years ago. It only lasted a couple of months, but she might be the one person who can give us some decent information.”

“Meaning she’s still alive?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Obviously, if we are dealing with a face-shifter, then he either didn’t know about her or didn’t think she was enough of a threat to his takeover of Nadler’s life.”

“So she may not be able to tell us much.”

He snorted softly. “Are you kidding me? You’re a prime example of just how well you women can hold a grudge against a lover who has spurned you in some way.”

“If I was holding a grudge, I wouldn’t have come to you in the first place.”

“Lie,” he said equably. “You came to me because you needed me, and no grudge, no matter how well cherished, was going to get in your way. Simple as that.”

I couldn’t exactly deny that statement when it was the complete truth. So I simply said, “Have you managed to track down the wife’s current location?”

“Certainly have,” he said cheerfully. “Want to meet me there?”

“Maybe. If you’ll share where ‘there’ is.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He paused, and in the background, paper rustled, meaning he was flipping through his notebook. He’d never really taken to the electronic kind—he’d always said they were too easy to steal. Although if his rat-gang story had been stolen, then his scribbling barely legible notes in a book wasn’t exactly foolproof, either. “Okay, she’s a waitress at Dino-Bar over on Swan Street. She works the morning shift and takes a break about one, so our timing should be perfect if we both head there now.”

“The divorce obviously didn’t go well if she’s forced to waitress for a living.”

“Yeah, it was nasty, from all the reports. He got the better lawyers, and they really did a number on her.”

And a bitter woman was more likely to tell tales. “I’ll see you in about twenty, then.”

“Righto.”

He hung up. I told the taxi to wait as we drew up beside the hotel, then dashed inside to dump my purchases. Within minutes I was on my way again, heading to Swan Street.

Jak was waiting for me outside the Dino-Bar. Which was, I noted with some annoyance, a male strip club. Just what I needed when my hormones were so primed for action. Obviously, my annoyance showed in my expression, because he held up his hands. “It’s not a deliberate choice on my part. I had no idea it was a male strip club until I got here.”

“This is a general pissed-off look, not one specifically aimed at you.” I studied the plain, yet oddly gaudy facade. The Dino-Bar was obviously not one of your more up-market strip clubs. “Are you going to have a problem getting inside?”

“No—all sexual orientations are welcome, from what I’ve briefly seen.”

“Then let’s get inside.”

He touched my back, guiding me. Heat crawled from the epicenter of that light touch, spreading through me in wicked waves.

I swallowed heavily and did my best to ignore the sensation. The interior was dark, and smelled of humanity, booze, and arousal. The building was wider than it was long, the bar along the left wall and a high stage dominating the back. Two men in cages were gyrating to a slow, heavy beat, their movements mechanical and about as far from sexy as you could get—at least to this half werewolf’s eyes. But apparently I was the only one who thought that, because the crowd gathered beneath them was whistling and catcalling.

Jak guided me to the bar, ordered two beers, then put down some extra cash. “We need to speak to Jacinta Nadler.”

The barman studied him for several moments, then nodded and swept up the notes. “She’s on a break. I’ll call her out for you.”

“We’ll be at that table over there,” Jak said, pointing with his chin toward the far corner.

The barman nodded and ambled over to the phone. We picked up our drinks and took them to our table. He studied me for several seconds over the rim of his glass, then said, “Why is a wolf as hot as you so damn frustrated?”

“That,” I said heavily, “is none of your damn business.”

He grinned. “I’m a reporter. Puzzles are my business.”

“Not this one. Not any longer.”

I glanced up as a woman approached our table. She was small and shapely, with ample breasts and thick blond hair. She was also almost naked—paisley flowers covered her nipples, and the only other thing she wore was a glittery G-string. As Jak had said earlier, the club seemed to cater to all sexual orientations. Both sexes worked the floor, and the scantily clad females got as much attention as the males.

“You wanted to see me?” she said, her voice raspy and her brown gaze jumping warily between the two of us.