“It’s different because . . . because . . . It just is.”

I kind of liked this mental image of Pryce munching a maggot. It made me feel better in all sorts of ways. I kept it as clear as I could manage as I poured myself some coffee.

“Ow! Ow! All right, I’ll starve. I only materialized to ask you something, anyway.”

I sipped my coffee. I didn’t need to hear any more questions about how Kane would react to that dumb dream. In my mind, Pryce licked his lips and moved the remains of the maggot closer.

“No!” Butterfly spoke quickly. “Listen, Uffern is in an uproar. Here’s all I want to know: What in the name of all that’s unholy did you do to the Destroyer?”

In a blink, I let the image of Pryce eating Butterfly disappear. “What do you mean?”

“Not an hour ago, the big, bad Hellion went squealing through the demon plane like a pig running away from the butcher and hauling Pryce with it. The two of them had this earthshaking argument. And if you think that’s a figure of speech, you’re wrong. Towers crumbled.”

An hour ago. Just about the time I’d been jolted out of my dream.

“The thing is, I could’ve sworn I heard your name mentioned. Since you conjured me, that puts me at risk. So I ask again: What did you do?”

There is another way. Those words really had frightened the Destroyer. Problem was, I had no idea where they came from or what they meant.

“I don’t know,” I told Butterfly truthfully. “What did Pryce and Difethwr argue about?”

“You think I hung around to listen? I’m just a little demon, and so far they’ve overlooked me. But I’m your Eidolon. You conjured me, and that puts your mark on me. If either of those two bad boys catches wind of that, they’ll torture me until I tell them everything I know. Since I don’t know anything, they’d keep going just for fun—and that’d be way too much pain.”

“Poor you.” But I wasn’t thinking about Butterfly’s dilemma, I was thinking about why that voice in my head scared Difethwr.

“What voice?” Damn Eidolon was eavesdropping on my thoughts again.

“Don’t ask me. Just a voice in a dream.”

Butterfly fluttered around my head, like it was trying to peer into my mind to see my thoughts more clearly. I let it. I didn’t know what had scared the Destroyer, so there was nothing to hide. Anyway, maybe Difethwr’s reaction had nothing to do with the voice. Weird things happen in dreams. Maybe the Hellion had been startled by the sudden appearance of some image from my subconscious. God knows I’ve got enough scary stuff lurking in there.

“That’s for damn sure,” Butterfly commented. “Listen, I’m going to lie low for a while. Pryce is in a bad mood; the Destroyer is in a worse one. The last thing I need is for them to find common ground in tormenting me. So, with your permission . . .” Butterfly hovered near the ceiling. I knew what was coming, and crossed my arms over my torso. “Or without.” The demon dive-bombed straight into my gut.

Oof.

Butterfly settled down and was quiet. No gnawing or stirring up feelings of guilt. The thing was probably listening to my thoughts, ready to run back to the demon plane with a report. On the other hand, Butterfly was probably right that Pryce and the Destroyer would get a kick out of torturing a personal demon, just because. Right now, it was probably best for both of us if the demon remained where it was.

“But you’d better stay quiet,” I said out loud. “It might be worth sacrificing my kitchen to see Tina make her first demon kill.” I never liked those cabinets, anyway.

IN THE LIVING ROOM, TINA HAD RETURNED THE FURNITURE to its usual arrangement and now sat on the sofa talking with Mab. A quick look around reassured me that the room had survived Tina’s practice session more or less unscathed.

“Tina was telling me,” Mab said, “what she’s been studying at school.”

Several possibilities leapt to mind: Passing Notes 101, Advanced Gossip, Workshop in Napping. But then I remembered what a good job Tina had done with her speech. I looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“Civil disobedience,” Tina said brightly. “At first I thought it was gonna be something dumb, like, you know, being polite.” She sat up extra-straight, chin high, and placed her hand on her chest. “‘Pardon me very much, but I do not believe that I wish to do as you say.’” She leaned back, grinning. “That’s not it at all, though. It’s really interesting, like Thoreau and Gandhi and stuff. People who’ve made the government pay attention by breaking stupid laws, but doing it in a nonviolent, nonthreatening way. So everyone sees how dumb the law is, and the government ends up looking like a big bully.”

I nodded. “Kane would approve.”

“He does. He even came in to talk to us.”

I hadn’t known that. But Kane and I had spent most of the last several weeks keeping our distance.

“Tina recited her speech for me,” Mab said. “I was duly impressed. Between that and the copy of the speech your doorman so kindly sent up, I feel I’ve caught the rally’s highlights.”

Tina squirmed with pleasure. I knew how she felt. Hearing the words “duly impressed” from Mab was like winning the lottery. Yet, something was odd about Tina—something more than the fact that she was showing an interest in school. Then I realized what it was. She wasn’t scarfing down every last bit of food from my kitchen.

“Do you want something to eat?” I asked.

“No, thanks.”

“We’ve got ice cream. The chocolate almond kind you like.”

The black tip of Tina’s tongue darted out as she licked her lips. Then she shook her head.

“Tina is practicing a sort of civil disobedience,” Mab explained.

“Hunger strike.” Tina allowed herself a longing glimpse toward the kitchen, then squared her shoulders. “It’s part of the protest.”

“But . . .” I began. Zombies don’t have to eat to survive. They just love to stuff their faces. It’s one of their few pleasures. “When someone goes on a hunger strike, it’s to show that they’re willing to die over an issue. The person begins to starve, and public sympathy grows. It doesn’t work that way with zombies, so what’s the point?”

“Think about it. Deadtown doesn’t produce any food, but we consume tons. We zombies are a gold mine for norm-owned food corporations. If we refuse to eat, they lose money. Gets their attention.”

She had a point. Still, seeing Tina without a small mountain of food at hand was like seeing the ocean without any water—impossible, by definition.

“Yeah, I was hungry at first. But I’m so mad at the way they’re treating us I’ve pretty much lost my appetite. Well, most of it, anyway. Other zombies say the same thing. Getting mad really wrecks your appetite.”

Funny. Butterfly had said something like that, too, although Eidolons eat emotions instead of experiencing them.

Juliet appeared at the mouth of the hallway, yawning and stretching. Her short, slinky dress was a shade of red so dark it was almost black. With it she wore a pair of black, strappy sandals whose stiletto heels must have added four or five inches to her height. “Good evening,” she said to the room in general.

“Wow,” Tina said. “You look amazing.”

Juliet smiled widely enough to show the tips of her fangs, accepting the compliment as her due.

“Off hunting?” I asked.

“I have a job.”

“You’re joking.” Juliet hadn’t worked a day in at least six centuries.

“You have a job. Why can’t I? As a matter of fact, I happen to be working with the same hunky—and very juicy-looking—human detective that you are.”

My face must have revealed my utter incomprehension, because her smile widened into a leer. “I’m a police consultant, too. And tonight I’m going out with Detective Daniel Looks-Hot-In-Tight-Jeans Costello.”

“Daniel?”

Tina put both hands to her mouth and squealed with delight, like a preteen at a slumber party.

“Hang on,” I said. “What are you talking about?”

“That zombie you interrogated at the airport—Bonita Something-or-other. She indicated that Pryce is working with the Old Ones, yes? And since I’m the only vampire ever to escape the Old Ones’ clutches, Daniel wants me to help locate their cell.”

The Old Ones prey on vampires in much the same way vampires prey on humans. It was true that Juliet had been in their thrall and broken away. The Old Ones communicate telepathically, and during her time with them Juliet had learned to listen in on their conversations. She probably knew more about the Old Ones than anyone.

“We’re going to drive around town, starting with locations they’ve used in the past, so I can listen for any telepathic chatter. It’s going to be a very long night.” She licked her lips as she adjusted the plunging neckline of her dress. “And Daniel and I will be in very close quarters.”

“Juliet, you can’t. This is business, not a date.”

“Since when have I ever hesitated to mix business with pleasure?” She twirled her shiny dark hair around her finger as her eyes appraised me. “Do I detect some lingering interest in the detective?”

“Of course not.” I cursed the crimson heat that rose in my cheeks. “But the man has a girlfriend. They live together. You can’t barge in and help yourself.”

She blinked a couple of times. “Why not?”

“Because—” The phone rang. It was Clyde, announcing that Daniel was waiting for Juliet downstairs. Wow. He was picking her up at our building. I had to meet him past the checkpoints. This almost did look like a date.

She smirked as she sauntered to the door, hips swaying with each step of those impossibly high heels.

“Wait,” I said, “you’d better take a thermos of blood, because I guarantee you won’t get lucky with Daniel.”