“It won’t come to that,” Chief Turnham said, voice sharp and firm. My respect for my chief soared.

I gave him a polite nod. “And I appreciate that. Am I to assume that my leave is effective immediately?”

He sighed, deep regret in his eyes. “I think that would be for the best.”

I stood and gave him a grateful smile, then gave the mayor a slight, mocking bow. “Y’all have a Merry Christmas!” I turned and left, and even resisted the desire to slam the door behind me.

But once I was out, the smile slid off my face as I strode quickly down the hall to my office. True, it could have been worse. Administrative leave was a shitload better than a suspension. Basically I’d just been given a paid vacation. But I still felt as if I’d been hamstrung.

No one else was around, which was a relief. I didn’t feel like going into an explanation of the whole thing for anyone right now. I ducked into my office and quickly gathered up the few personal items I gave a damn about, just in case this whole situation turned to even more shit, and I couldn’t get back here for a while.

On my way home I called Jill. “Guess who’s a murder suspect!”

She groaned. “Please tell me you’re not in jail.”

I laughed. “Not yet. But I am on administrative leave. Paid!”

“Woohoo! Vay-cay!”

“Yeah, under any other circumstance it would rock. Anyway, I’m headed to the house. The mayor was in there with the chief when I was given the lovely news, and he’s seriously gunning for me. Wanted me to sign a consent-to-search form to let them rummage through my house.”

I heard her suck her breath in. “Yikes. I’m assuming you told them to get stuffed?”

“Pretty much. But I have a bad feeling that the mayor’s gonna be pressuring Chief Turnham to scrape up enough probable cause to get a warrant.”

She made an unpleasant sound. We both knew that there were ways to get around the strict legalities of search and seizure. All they had to do was come up with a “confidential informant” to attest that I was hiding evidence of my dark deeds in my house. “You’re still planning to summon tonight?”

“Hell, no,” I said. “I’m summoning as soon as I get home.”

“Good plan. You need something to cart your demon around in once you get him here?”

“Crap. I might, depending on which demon I summon. I’ll need to go rent an SUV—”

“No, you won’t,” she interrupted. “We can put him in the back of the van.”

It took me a couple of seconds to process what she meant. “Wait. Your crime scene van?”

“That’s the one!”

I burst out laughing. “This is yet another reason why you’re my best friend.”

After I hung up with her I called Roman, spun him a fiction about needing his signature on a witness statement so that I could close out the Barry Landrieu case, and could he possibly meet me at Grounds For Arrest in say, two hours?

He agreed without hesitation. I breathed a sigh of relief. I still figured it was a long shot, but even eliminating him as a suspect would be progress. And since my progress thus far had been zilch, I’d take what I could get.

Eilahn was waiting for me on the porch with the cat on her lap when I pulled up. I had absolutely no idea how the demon managed to be everywhere I was, but I wasn’t going to complain.

Fuzzykins eyed me balefully as I climbed the steps. I reached to give her ears a scratch, and she gave me a dubious sniff. Well, at least it was an improvement over the usual hiss/snarl/claw reaction.

“I’m on administrative leave,” I told Eilahn.

“I know,” she said. “I listened in on your meeting.”

Again—no idea how she managed that. Did she hide in the air ducts or something?

“Any suggestions for demons to summon who can do a discreet assessment of Roman?” I glanced at the sky and scowled. “In broad daylight?”

She thought for a moment. “A nyssor would be the most prudent choice.”

I bit back a groan. She was likely right. But a nyssor…ugh. “They can assess for summoning ability?” I asked, hoping she’d respond with something like, Oh, wait, my mistake, you don’t need a nyssor after all.

“Yes,” she said, dashing my brief hopes. “And it would only need a heartbeat or two of contact.” Her lips twitched. “You do not care for the fifth-level demons?”

“They creep me the fuck out,” I confessed, adding a shudder for emphasis.

She laughed, a crystalline sound. “You are not the first summoner to say so.”

“There’s a reason for that,” I said sourly. “Do we have any bacon in the house?”

“Second drawer in the fridge,” she replied as she stroked her fingers through the cat’s fur.

I stood and headed inside, shedding the cuff and pulling my cell phone out as soon as I was through the door. While I walked to the kitchen I typed a text to Jill, then retrieved the bacon from the fridge, kicked the door closed, and walked back down the hallway to the basement door.

Yes, you really do need to summon this demon, I told myself firmly as I hesitated. I didn’t really like summoning during the day, but the use of the storage diagram made it easier. Muttering something nasty, I set the package of bacon down, stripped off my clothes, retrieved the bacon, then headed down the stairs to get garbed up for the summoning. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could dismiss it.

Chapter 16

I’d just finished changing back into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt when Jill entered the front door. She flashed a smile at me, then stopped dead at the sight of the demon waiting patiently in the living room.

“Good, you brought the stuff,” I said, moving forward to take the bag from her hand. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” she replied unsteadily. She swallowed, frowned. “Is, um, this the demon… ?” She wrenched her gaze over to me, and I couldn’t tell if the pleading in her eyes wanted me to say yes or no.

Exhaling, I nodded. I totally understood her reaction. Nyssor looked almost exactly like human children. This particular one looked like a little boy, perhaps four years old, and utterly beautiful, with flaxen curls and an angelic face. The “almost” part came in when you looked at their eyes, which were a little too large and had sideways-slit pupils. And the features were a little too perfect. They definitely fell into that “uncanny valley” territory. Creepy.

I crouched by the demon and pulled clothing out of the bag. “Jill, this is Votevha. He’s a nyssor—a fifth-level demon. Votevha, this is Jill. She is my friend.”

The demon’s eyes shifted to Jill. “Friend,” he repeated in a high treble. It bared its teeth in a vulpine smile full of hundreds of sharp teeth.

Jill paled. “Jesus,” she muttered, but she managed to pull together a smile of her own. “So nice to meet you.”

“I have clothing for you,” I told the demon. “Do you require assistance?”

He shook his head and took the pants and shirt from me, examined them briefly, then slipped them on easily. He gave me a questioning look. “Good?” he said.

“Good,” I said with a nod. “There are shoes, too.”

He pulled them on while I straightened and turned to Jill. “Did you bring the booster seat?”

“Yeah, borrowed it from my next door neighbor. Told her I was babysitting for a friend.” She gave a mock shudder. “I hope she doesn’t think I’m available to babysit her little darlings.” She paused, looked at the demon with a slight frown pulling at her lips. “Does, um, he really need one?”

“Nope,” I said, “but if by some chance I get stopped, I don’t want to get a ticket for not having my demon properly secured.”

Part of my text to Jill had been to ask her to bring her personal car instead of her crime scene van. Since I didn’t have an overly large demon to tote around, I figured it was better if we went with something a little less obvious. In theory we could have used my departmental vehicle, but since I was on administrative leave, I didn’t want to be seen driving it around too much, just in case someone remembered that, technically, I should have been asked to turn my keys in for the duration of my leave. And I didn’t currently have a personal vehicle. About a year and a half ago, the engine of the ancient Honda Civic I’d been driving since college had finally gone into a spectacular meltdown after two hundred and forty thousand miles. Buying another car—even a crummy used one—had been beyond my budget and relegated into the category of “things I really should do one of these days.”

Luckily Jill had a nearly new Nissan X-Terra. It took a few minutes to figure out how to belt the demon into the booster seat, and then we were on our way.

Jill glanced over at me after we were both in the car, and gave me a wink. “Look at us being all domestic and mom-like and shit.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Take a picture. This is the closest I’m likely to get.”

The drive into town was uneventful, though I discovered that Votevha had a preference for National Public Radio. We parked about a block down the street from the coffee shop and walked, the demon trotting along between us. I couldn’t help but be amazed at how much he resembled a human child—not just in looks, but in demeanor as well. He paused to tug on a fluttering piece of tinsel, darted forward to peer at a bug crawling along the sidewalk, pointed and laughed at a battered snowman decoration.

Apparently he looked convincingly child-like to others as well. A middle-aged woman dressed in a full-length leather coat and a fur hat paused in her cell phone conversation as we approached. She frowned as her gaze came to rest on the demon.

“That child needs a coat!” she informed us with an imperious sniff as we passed her.

I gritted my teeth and kept going. “Pushy bitch,” I muttered. I’d even asked the demon if he was cold. What, I was supposed to make him wear a coat he would be uncomfortable in?