Juliet’s eyes got wider, then she laughed. “Some kind of Halloween joke, right?”

“No joke. I saw it. Over in the North End.”

“But that can’t be. Boston’s shielded against those things.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” I told her what had happened at Lucado’s condo. When I got to the part where Difethwr spoke my name and told me it wasn’t yet my time, I picked up the glass, threw back my head, and sent the third shot down the hatch to join the first two.

“A Hellion running around Boston,” Juliet said, then shrugged. “Bummer for the humans.” She looked at my empty tequila glass. “Oh, and for you, too. I mean, I know you’ve got a history with this thing. You really think it came here looking for you?”

“It called me by name. It mentioned my father.” I closed my eyes, but that made the room tilt, so I opened them again. “What are we going to do?”

“About what?” said a man’s voice behind me. “Or am I interrupting a private conversation?”

“Yeah, you are, so just—” I turned around to tell whoever it was to take a hike. I found myself staring into cornflower-blue eyes beneath blond curls. My heart picked up its pace. “Detective Costello,” I said. “I, um, I didn’t recognize you without the suit.”

He looked good. In fact, he took looking good to a whole new level. He was wearing a very well-fitting pair of black jeans and with a soft-looking crewneck sweater the same blue as his eyes. He smiled, making his eyes go a shade deeper. “Do you always start talking before you know who you’re talking to?”

“Yes,” Juliet said, “she does.”

Costello’s smile broadened, and Juliet gave me a look that said, Better eat this one while he’s hot.

“Why don’t you go play with your English major?” I said.

Juliet laughed and licked her fangs. Costello’s gaze went back and forth between us, looking confused and more than a little worried.

“I take it you don’t come here much,” I said.

He let out a breath and shook his head. “First time. I heard you tell Attorney Kane you’d try to meet him here tonight. I wanted to talk to you.”

“More questions about George?”

He grinned. “That, too.”

COSTELLO ORDERED BEER, A KILLIAN’S. AS FOR ME, I’D HAD more than enough alcohol for one night, so I had Axel pour me a club soda. We moved to a booth, where I repeated the story of seeing the Destroyer.

“I’m not up on all this paranormal stuff,” Costello said. “Life used to be a lot simpler.”

“It only seemed simple, you know. We’ve been here all along. Don’t you think it’s better to have the monsters out in the open instead of lurking in dark alleys?”

He didn’t answer. For a moment, the look on his face made me think I didn’t really want to hear his reply. Then he blinked and shook himself. “What can you tell me about this shield?” he asked. “The one that’s supposed to keep these Hellions out of the city.”

“It was created after the plague by a consortium of white witches, representatives from all the local covens: Beacon Hill, the Back Bay, Southie, Cambridge, Somerville, all over. Something had to be done fast, because Hellions were already creating havoc. You remember what it was like then, don’t you? Riots, looting, arson. That kind of havoc attracts even more Hellions—it spirals. So an emergency magical response team was put together. Sorcerers drove out the Hellions that were already here. Then the witches erected the shield keep them out.”

“Doesn’t seem to have worked.”

“It did, though. I’ve never seen a Hellion in Boston.” Until tonight. “The shield must have been breached somehow.”

“So we have to tell the witches to fix it.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that easy. The Destroyer was inside the city tonight. If it’s still around, repairing the shield would trap it inside.”

“And then?”

“It would never rest until it had destroyed the city and everyone in it.” As it was already threatening to do.

We looked at each other. Daniel picked up his beer and took a swig. I felt kind of sorry for him. Boston was his city, and as a cop it was his job to protect it. But he had no clue what he was up against here.

“There’s another thing about the shield,” I said. “I think someone cut a hole in it on purpose. If that’s the case, the breach will be hidden. Even with the best witches, it could take a while to find the hole and repair the damage.”

“Why on earth would anyone purposely put a hole in the shield that protects the city?”

“Somebody summoned the Destroyer. Whoever did that has plans for it—and is way ahead of us.”

Daniel was silent for a few minutes, staring at the table, taking it all in. Then he looked up. “So what do you suggest?”

“Talk to the witches who created the shield. The Department of Magic has their names. They can start searching for the hole. And they might have some idea of who made it.”

“But what about the demon?”

“Demons are my department.” Costello gave me a long, searching look, then opened his mouth like he was going to try to talk me out of it. “It’s mine, Detective. That Hellion murdered my father. I’m going to kill the damn thing.”

A FEW MINUTES LATER, THE DOOR BANGED OPEN AND Kane stood in the doorway, surveying the bar. His silver hair gleamed like a warrior’s helmet, and he still wore the gray suit, looking as sharp as it had this morning. He did a double take when he saw me sitting with Costello, then nodded at us. He came inside, followed by two zombies. And then a guy with a TV camera. And then a whole troupe of other people I didn’t know who were carrying lights and bags and clipboards.

There was a stir when the zombies came in. Humans turned in their seats to get a better look. We were only a couple of blocks outside of Deadtown, but you just didn’t see zombies at Creature Comforts very often. Even the New Combat Zone was off-limits to zombies without a permit.

After a word with Axel, Kane strode right over to our booth, his gray eyes lit up with a strange glow. “Detective Costello,” he said, extending his hand. “I have to admit I never expected to see you here.”

“I needed to ask Vicky a couple of questions.”

When Costello used my first name, Kane raised an eyebrow, then frowned in my direction. For a moment I could’ve sworn he was jealous. “You shouldn’t talk to the police unless I’m present,” he said. Of course. His disapproval of my sitting here with a handsome detective was purely professional. Silly me.

“Daniel’s not on duty, so I figured it was okay.” It was the first time I’d said Costello’s first name out loud. I kind of liked the way it sounded, especially because this time Kane really did look jealous. “Don’t worry, Kane. I didn’t give away any classified PA information. The secret handshake is safe.”

Kane shot me a look that promised we’d continue this discussion later. Then he turned to look at the door, where the zombies stood awkwardly. There were two of them, a male and a female. They both looked like they’d died young—late twenties, maybe. They were good-looking for zombies. No holes in their faces, no missing limbs, just a couple of fingers gone from the guy’s left hand. He wore a Red Sox sweatshirt and jeans; the female zombie was in an orange dress that didn’t flatter the greenish tone of her skin. She clutched her handbag to her chest, as if she were drowning and it was a life vest.

“What are those two doing here?” I asked. “And what’s with the camera crew?”

Kane had been trying to wave them over to join us, but they stood where they were. “They’re here to make a point,” he said. He went to the door, took both zombies by the hand, and led them over to us.

“Well, Detective, aren’t you going to arrest them? Aren’t these citizens committing a crime by leaving Designated Area One without a permit?”

Costello leaned back in the booth and squinted at the zombies. “I don’t make a habit of pestering people for IDs when I’m off duty, Counselor. As far as I can tell, these are a couple of college kids in their Halloween costumes.”

I realized what Kane was doing. “Don’t drag Daniel into this,” I said. “Make your propaganda without him.”

“It’s not propaganda; you know that.” He turned to Costello. “We’re taping a paid political advertisement to rebut Baldwin’s claims that Paranormal Americans are a threat to humans. Will you say on camera that you can’t tell these previously deceased humans from college students?” He gestured to the cameraman.

“Sorry. Can’t do something like that without running it past the chief first. We’re not allowed to take sides publicly in politics.” He slid along the booth’s vinyl seat and stood up.

Kane stepped close in front of him. Tense, they measured each other up. Fists clenched. Chests puffed. You could almost smell the testosterone. Axel came halfway around the bar, watching. The cop and the werewolf stared at each other, eye to eye, almost exactly the same height. I would’ve enjoyed the view if I hadn’t been worried that in half a second they’d start tearing each other apart.

Then Daniel relaxed just a hair, but enough to signal to Kane’s werewolf senses, loud and clear, that he wasn’t interested in fighting. A lot of werewolves would take that as a sign of submission, but Kane didn’t press it. He stepped back, relaxing as well, his hands unclenching.

They nodded to each other. Daniel turned and walked toward the door. I couldn’t pick up any fear in the way he carried himself. Pretty brave for a human, turning his back on a werewolf.

Over at the bar, Axel picked up his towel and started wiping glasses.

Kane watched Daniel until the oak door closed behind him. I thought I heard a low growl, but maybe it was just the buzz of conversation around us. He went back to his frightened-looking zombies and started herding them around.