Demon Lover, Part Three

 I felt like Frodo leading the fellowship toward Mordor. Rachel walked beside me as we followed the water.

            I caught glimpses of animals skittering in the bushes—and flying up in the trees. Once I thought I saw a small dinosaur circling in the dark sky. A snakelike creature slithered through the grass near my feet, then disappeared before I could jump back.

            Soon the stream widened into a river. After a few hours we had to stop for rest. Katrina didn’t want to wait, but Meghan was exhausted.             

            We sank to the rough ground to rest.

Rachel crouched next to the river and ran her hand in the water. She licked her fingers. “Tastes all right.”

            Her hazelnut eyes looked hazy, as if she was sleepy or high. I felt lightheaded myself. Meghan was almost asleep.  Maybe this dimension was affecting us. Something in the atmosphere—or the world itself?

            I’d traveled to another dimension years ago—one where humans from our world got sick over time. It wasn’t inhabited by demons, but it still wasn’t anyplace for a long-term vacation. I hoped we had enough time to find what we were looking for.

            Katrina struggled to her feet. “Come on.”

            She staggered forward. Rachel took the rear, helping Meghan keep up.

            Lights flickered in the trees. I waved a hand in front of my eyes. Fireflies? I stopped.

            The trees swung back and forth in the cold breeze, shaking more sharp-edged leaves down over our heads and shoulders.

            Then a demon stepped out of the darkness.

            This one was female. Seven feet tall, no horns, just vines that seemed to grow from her scalp like Medusa’s snakes. Her feet were bare, with short claws sprouting from her toes and heels, and she wore a short leather skirt and a vest made out of leaves, and she carried a long thick branch in her hand.

            “Humans.” She smirked. “I haven’t seen your sort in a long time. What are you doing here?”

            Katrina pushed me aside. “I’m here for my daughter!”

            I wanted to pull her back. But Rachel put a hand on my arm. “Let her talk.”

            No mansplaining. I got it. But I kept a hand near my pocket to grab the stun gun if things got weird.

            “Who are you?” The demon looked us over. “What do you want?”

            “Her name is Nikki.” Katrina wobbled on the earth. “Her father is—Webb. Where is she?”

            The demon woman smiled. “I’m—you can call me Desi. That’s not my name, but we never give out our names. Webb? That sounds like . . .”

            She stiffened and turned around, as if hearing a call in the distance. “Okay. What will you give me? If I take you to him?”

            “Anything.” Katrina nodded. “Whatever you want.”

            “Kat!” Meghan darted forward. “Don’t say that. You don’t know—”

            Her sister pushed her away. “Shut up! If this is the only way—”

            “She’s right.” Rachel stepped between Katrina and the demon. “You don’t want to make any deals you can’t keep. Not even for Nikki.”

            “Goddamn it!” She stomped a foot on the hard ground. “I want my daughter!”

            Desi laughed. “You’re in our world now. You want something? Be ready to make a deal.”

            She turned on a clawed heel. “I’ll take you to . . . Webb. But you’ll owe me.”

            This was turning out all wrong.

We followed Desi through the forest.

            Rachel slugged my arm. “Stop looking at her ass.”

            “I wasn’t—” Okay, maybe I was. Desi wore a short skirt, and I’m a guy.

            Meghan collapsed, begging for rest. Desi laughed, leaning on her staff. “This is no place for humans.”

            “Give her a few minutes.” I knelt down and handed her a water bottle. “You okay?”

            Meghan forced herself to stand. “Kat? I love you, but . . . this is crazy.”

            “I’m sorry, Meg.” But she didn’t look back. “I have to find Nikki.”

            “Okay.” Meghan stood up, panting. “I’m good.”

A gray stone cottage sat next to a small pond. Red flowers grew in rows next to the door—the first real color we’d seen in this land. A young woman sat in front of the door, peeling some kind of yellow fruit. She wore leggings and a long shirt that reached down to her knees. She threw the rind into one wooden bucket between her feet, and the fruit onto a wide dish next to her.

            Her feet were clawed. Her scalp was almost bare, and a single small horn jutted from the back of her skull.

            She looked up as we approached. “Dad? There’s humans here!”

            Katrina staggered back. Meghan caught her arm.

            “Nikki . . .” she whispered. “Nikki?”

            A wooden door swung open, and Webb stepped out.

            He had the same jutting chin and thin cheeks, but now he had two short horns in his forehead and claws on his fingers. He ran his eyes over us. “Hello, Kat. Meg.”

            “They were looking for you.” Desi smiled.

            Webb frowned. “You didn’t make any deals, did you?”

            “She said ‘anything.’” She poked Katrina’s shoulder. “Didn’t you?”

            Katrina said nothing now.

            “Nikki, go inside.” Webb held the door.

            But Nikki stayed still. “Mom?”

            Katrina walked forward as Desi watched and smirked. “It’s you.”

            She leaned down and grabbed her daughter in a tight hug. After a moment, Nikki reached her arms around her mother’s waist, looking up at her face.

            “What happened?” Meghan stared at the child, then glanced at me.

            “Time moves differently in different dimensions.” I’d seen it happen before. “We could go back and find out that only a second passed.” I hoped it didn’t work the other way around. I didn’t want to get back and find out years had gone by. My apartment, my car, my business . . . my mother.

            “Leave us alone, Desi.” Webb put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, pulling her away from Katrina. “We’ll talk later.”

            “Yes. We will.” She shot a look at Katrina. “Remember what you said.”

            Desi’s smile made me uncomfortable as she turned toward the trees.

            Webb growled. “Inside.”

“My mother took me to the human realm when I was less than one year old. I adapted. I thought.”

            We were inside Webb’s house, in a comfortable if primitive living room that looked as if Little House on the Prairie had starred the Flintstones. A hardwood floor with a rug that looked as if it had been skinned from a giant snow tiger, a table made of stone, and chairs built from wood and some kind of bone. I didn’t want to think about what kind.

We drank water out of stone cups served by Nikki.

            “My father started eating her skin, one strip at a time.” He might have been talking about random affairs or cheating on taxes. “He stopped when I was born, but then he started up again. She found a portal and left.”

            “Found one or made it?” I wasn’t sure how these things worked. Rachel poked me. “What? I ask questions. It’s my job.”

            Webb scowled. “A wizard taught her how to open portals in exchange for some flesh.” Again, as if flaying people alive was economics 101 here. “So we came to your world . . . but she didn’t make the transition very well.” His yellow eyes darkened. “She had to come back here sometimes. Otherwise the stress of acting human all the time made her . . . revert.” He slammed his fist on the table. The water in our cups shook. “Get violent. Lash out. It’s what happened to me.” He nodded at Katrina.

            “What about humans who come here?” I braved myself for another jab.

“They get sick. Sometimes they adapt.” He looked at Nikki. “She’s half demon, so she was sick for a while. After a few months she—became who she is now.”

            Nikki sat on the floor, impatient and bored.

            “But that’ll change when she goes back home, right?” Katrina was sitting forward on her bony chair.

            Webb’s yellow eyes flared. “Never. This is her home now.”

“But she was born with us! Her home is—”

            “Stop it!” Nikki stood up and stomped a foot on the floor. “I’m staying here.”

            Katrina’s face went pale. For a moment I thought she might faint. But she grabbed the arm of her chair and held herself up. Meghan handed her a cup of water. She gulped it, gasping, and ran a hand over her forehead, tears dripping from her eyes.

            Then she sat back and gazed at her daughter. “N-Nikki? What happened?”

            “Look at me!” She bent down and lowered her head, sticking the horn in her skull into the air. “At this! It’s who I am now!”

            “But you’ll change back. Won’t she?” Katrina shot a look at Webb. “You’re not—like that when you come back. She’ll—”

            “So what?” Nikki kicked an empty chair. “Am I going to go back to third grade again? I’m older! Look at me! I like it here! I have friends!”

            Meghan snorted. “Like Desi? And Argunn?”

            “Like my dad!” She stopped and planted her feet wide apart, crossing her arms. “He protects me.”

“From demons who want to eat your skin?” Katrina lurched to her feet, glaring at Webb. “Do you let them do that? Or do you eat her skin too?”

            “Shut up, bitch!” Webb stalked toward her. “Your piece of paper isn’t worth anything here! You’re in my world—”

            Katrina slapped his face.

            “Mom!” Nikki screamed.

            Webb reached out and grabbed her neck, pulling her close to his face. I saw long fangs between his jaws.

            I grabbed at my pocket and jumped forward with the stun gun, pushing the electrodes into Webb’s arm.

            Webb howled and swung an arm that hit my face like a sledgehammer. I staggered back, trying not to shriek in pain, and Rachel popped her pepper spray and squirted a long dose into his face.

            She managed to jump back before Webb could shift around to hit her. Nikki kicked me in the knee.

            Meghan pulled at her sister’s shoulders. “Goddamn it, Kat, you can’t—”

            “STOP IT!” Nikki’s scream stabbed my eardrums—and shook the stone floor of the house.

            Only Nikki was standing. Katrina was on top of her sister, squirming, trying to get back up and fight. Webb lay flat on his back, gasping for breath after the stab of Rachel’s pepper spray. Rachel rolled over and crawled to me, panting.

            “You okay?” I tried to sit up. Failed. So I sank back down, trying to catch my breath, searching for the stun gun on the floor with my hand.

            “Idiot.” She pressed the weapon into my palm. “Hang onto this next time.”

            I managed to sit up. “Can everyone just calm down?”

            Webb snarled. “I’m going to kill all of you! And eat your skin. Raw, while you’re still screaming—”

            “Dad!” Nikki knelt next to her father. “No! You can’t!”

            Webb raised an arm. “Shut up, you—”

            Katrina pushed Nikki away before Webb could hit her. “Don’t you dare!”

            Somehow Rachel got to her feet, grunting, and pulled Nikki back, her arms around her waist. They both fell, Nikki on top, and rolled away.

            Katrina was on her knees, sobbing. “Webb, don’t! Please? You don’t have to be like this!”

            “Dad!” Nikki escaped Rachel’s arms and planted her feet between Webb and her mother. “Stop!”

            The door behind us opened with a bang.

            Desi. With two more demons behind her.

            Oh hell.

Demon Lover, Part Four

“There’s flesh here.” Desi walked into the house. “Lots of it.” She licked her lips. “And this one made me a deal.”

            The two demons with her were at least seven feet tall. I couldn’t count the number of horns on their heads.

            Webb reared up. “Out!” His voice was a roar. “My house! Get out!”

            I held my stun gun up. I wasn’t sure if Desi knew what it could do, but it was all I had.

            “Let’s all just calm down and take a breath.” I followed my own suggestion with a deep gulp of air as my heart pounded behind my ribs.

            Rachel moved to my side. “Now what?”

            Webb growled as he got to his feet. “I will not let you eat any skin here. If we have to fight, I’ll eat yours.” He licked his lips. “I’m sure it’ll taste juicy. Especially the good parts.”

            The good parts? Yuck.

            “She made a deal.” The snakes on Desi’s head squirmed. “Anything. That’s what she said.”

            Webb lifted his claws. “She’s the mother of my child. Only I have claim to her skin. And if I don’t eat it, no one does.”

            “And they say romance is dead,” I whispered. Rachel jabbed my ribs.

But Katrina looked over her shoulder at her ex-husband with something like relief. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

            “For Nikki.” His nod held menace. “Not for you.”

            Desi laughed. “Okay. We’ll leave your home. But we’ll be waiting outside.”

            She and her two demons left, slamming the door behind them.

            Meghan slapped her sister’s arm. “I told you not to say that!”

            “I had to find Nikki!” She dropped to her knees again, sobbing. “You don’t understand, you’ll never . . .”

            “Don’t cry, mom.” Nikki put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “You can’t cry. It makes you weak.”

            “What?” She looked up. “Is that what he taught you?”

            “You can’t be weak.” Nikki’s horn rose behind her head. “It’s the only way to survive.”

            Katrina slapped her hand. “Get away from me!”

            Nikki stumbled back, confused. “I just said—”

She jabbed a finger at Webb. “You did this to her! You made her this way!”

“I taught her to be strong.” Webb smiled at his daughter. “And she’s learned.”

“You asshole! What have you done to her?” Katrina staggered, trying to stay upright. “If you’ve hurt her, I will—”

“Kat.” Meghan put a hand on her arm. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

            Yeah. I lifted a hand. “You guys have to work out your custody issues without any lawyers, which is fine with me no matter what happens.” I didn’t really think leaving Nikki in a demon realm where people ate skin was best for her, but maybe it was better than some neighborhoods in Chicago. “The real question is, how do we get back to the portal with Desi and her goons out there?”

            Webb stalked to the window, leaned down, and peered out. “I can protect you.”

            Meghan shook her head. “I don’t know. Those two guys with her were pretty big.”

            “They’re stupid.” He wheeled around. “They’re her latest. She keeps two around between mating seasons. Then she eats them, ruts with a champion, and chooses two more to keep her . . . satisfied for two years. So she has to pick dumb.”

            “Oh . . . my . . . god.” Katrina’s eyes widened on her daughter. Then she leaned over, gasping, and vomited on Webb’s carpet.

            Meghan put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. But she stared at Webb with enough hate in her eyes to make me nervous. “This place is where you want your daughter to grow up? There’s nothing normal about this—”

            “My mother died because she lived in a human realm.” Webb clenched his jaw. “We can’t live in both worlds. It has to be one or the other.”

            “So you want Nikki to grow up in a world like this? Is she going to eat skin and wait every two years to rut with a, a champion? Didn’t you figure anything out when you lived as a human?”

            “That I can’t live as a human!” He lifted his arms. “Look at me! This is what I am! This place is where I have to live—if I want to live.”

            “But Nikki . . .” Katrina coughed. “She was born at home. She doesn’t have to live like this.”

            “I’ve seen it all, mom.” Nikki stood in a corner. Not frightened, but uncertain. She clutched at her horn. “The rutting, the skin eating, everything. It’s how we live here.”

            Katrina wiped an arm over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” She stood up again, with Meghan’s help. Then she closed her eyes, as if she couldn’t look at her daughter while she asked the question: “Do you really want to stay here?”

            Webb turned away—as if he didn’t want to hear her answer either.

            Nikki shook her head. “No.”

            Webb groaned.

            Katrina rubbed her eyes. “Are you sure?”

            Nikki tapped a clawed heel on the floor uncertainly. Then she walked slowly to her father. “I’m sorry, dad.”

            I wondered what I could do if he lashed out at her. But Webb only lowered his head. “Go.”

            Rachel glanced over her shoulder at the window. “That leaves us with the first question—how do we get back to the portal?”

            I grinned. “Maybe we don’t have to.”

            She blinked. “Oh. Right.”

            “Webb?” I was nervous talking to him, but this was our only good option unless we wanted to fight our way past three skin-hungry demons. “You know how to open a portal, don’t you?”

            After a long moment, he nodded. “Yes.”

            “Will you do it for us? Please?”

            A longer moment. “If I’m allowed to see Nikki. A day or two, once every month or so. It’s . . . about as long as I can stand it.”

            Katrina nodded. “All right. As long as . . .”

            Her words echoed off the walls.

            Still without looking at us, Webb lowered his head. “I am . . . sorry I hurt you, Kat. I won’t hurt Nikki. Again. Ever.”

            Nikki took her father’s hand. “I’m sorry, dad.”

            He squeezed her arm. “It’s better. This is a hard world.”

            “I’ll be strong.”

            He stroked her horn. “I know.”

            Finally he turned to us. “This will take a few minutes. And it may not come out in the same place.”

            “As long as it’s close.” I looked at Rachel. “And not 30 feet in the air.”

            He held a hand out to Katrina. “Give me something that belongs to you. I can use it as an anchor to your home.”

            She dug into her jeans and pulled out her keys. “Thank you.”

            A rock crashed through the window. I jumped. Rachel whirled, yanking her pepper spray again.

            From outside Desi’s voice murmured, “I’m waiting!”

            I looked at Webb. “Hurry.”

Rachel and I argued, but she went through before me. I took one last look at Webb. I was the last. “Thanks again.”

            He snarled. “I never want to see you again. Go.”

            The feeling was mutual, but I didn’t say that. Instead I stepped through the portal of swirling colors—

            —and fell through a cold sea of nothingness until I hit the hardwood floor of Katrina’s condo.

            Rachel helped me get up. Meghan offered me a bottle of water, and I drank half of it down in one gulp.

            Katrina was in a chair, and Nikki slumped on a couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Already the horn in the back of her head looked smaller. She sipped a box of apple juice.

            “You okay?” Rachel patted my shoulder.  

            “F-fine.” I shivered, then finished the water.

            Meghan looked at her niece. “You hungry, Nikki?”

            “Yeah.” She set the juice box down. “Could I have . . .” She paused, as if trying to remember what she could eat here. “Are there cookies?”

            “In the kitchen.” Katrina looked at her daughter as if she didn’t want to let her out of her sight. “Meg?”

            “Sure.” She headed off.

            I looked at Rachel. “We should be going.”

            She nodded. “Right.”

            “Thank you.” Katrina stood up on wobbling legs. “I didn’t think . . . it would turn out like this.”

            I shrugged. “You never know.”

            She reached out to shake my hand, and Rachel’s. “Send me your bill.”

            “He will,” Rachel promised.

            I looked at Nikki on the couch. “Good night, Nikki. Good luck.”

            Nikki nodded without looking at me. “Thanks.”

            Out in the hallway Rachel slugged me. “Now I see why you stay away from child custody cases.”

“Yeah.” I patted the stun gun back in my pocket. “Thanks for helping out there.”

            “Only I get to hit you.” And she punched my arm. Gently.

“What about Nikki? Is she going to be okay?”

            She closed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe. She’s . . . torn. But who wouldn’t be? I was—I mean, you know.”

            “Yeah.” Rachel’s parents had gotten divorced. At least neither one of them had been demons. “Let’s go home.”

            “Right.” We walked toward the elevator. “As soon as we get a cab to find my car.”

###

Vampires vs. Werewolves

Tom Jurgen’s search for a young vampire leads him to a murder case—and a conflict between vampires and werewolves.

Vampires vs. Werewolves, Part One

“We’re worried that our son might be . . .” Mrs. Johansson hesitated. “A vampire.”

Not exactly what I’d expected. Although life was different when I was growing up.

Rose Johansson sat next to her husband, Rick, in their living room in the northern suburbs of Chicago. They looked like the typical middle-aged couple: graying hair, comfortable jeans, family photos on the piano—and a little nervous about talking to a private detective about their son.

I nodded. “As it happens, I have some experience in . . . dealing with vampires.”

“We don’t want you to kill him.” Rick Johansson jabbed a finger. “No matter what.”

I lifted a hand. “I’m on friendly terms with several vampires.”

Of course, if the kid had killed someone . . . but I didn’t have to deal with that right now.

Me? Thomas Hale Jurgen, ex-reporter, now a private detective, with a specialty in the supernatural. I didn’t go looking for this niche. It just found me, and now I’ve got to deal with it if I still want to pay for things like the internet, medications for anxiety and depression, and dates with my girlfriend Rachel.

“All right.” They’d given me coffee. I took a sip. “Tell me about your son. What’s his name?”

“Jason.” Rick crossed his arms. “It was my father’s name.”

“So why do you think he’s a vampire?”

Rosa told most of it. Jason, 22, had been living at home after finishing college with a degree in marketing. He started working the night shift at a local copy shop while trying to find a job. He was obsessed with a local band called Vampireca. He listened to their music and went to shows downtown, then slept all day.

            “It was okay.” Rick shrugged. “I mean, holding down a job, not making trouble, paying for things. He’s a good kid.”

            “But there was blood on his clothes.”  Mrs. Johansson rubbed her eyes. “Not a lot. I thought he was fighting. He didn’t really explain. The next night he didn’t eat anything for dinner, and he had a Band-Aid in his neck.” She pressed a finger on her throat. “Right here.”

            “He didn’t come home on Sunday morning.” Today was Tuesday. Rick heaved a long sigh. “I don’t care if he’s . . . you know. I just want my son back home.”

            He patted his wife’s arm as she sobbed softly.

            I hated this part. “You realize there’s no cure? If he’s really a vampire, we can’t change him back.”

            Rick nodded, his face shaking as if he was thinking through the ramifications. Finally, he choked out, “Like I said, I just want my son back home.”

            I nodded. “All right. Can you give me some pictures?”

            Rick stood up. “You need a check, don’t you?”

            I hated this part too, especially when clients were in pain. But it came with the job. “Yes, I do. Um, first day’s fee? I’ll send you an itemized hourly bill, of course—”

            “Just write the check.” Mrs. Johansson reached for a tissue and blew her nose. “Please?”

Back in my apartment, I looked over the photos of Jason. He had long, unruly hair and a blunt nose, and he wore wide round glasses. I made two few phone calls and left two messages. I wouldn’t get a call back from either one before sundown.

            Then I started on the list of friends Jason’s parents had given me. Half didn’t answer. Those who did hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days, but they agreed to call me or his parents if they did. The nighttime manager of the copy center where Jason worked wasn’t in. The manager I spoke to knew nothing, but he took a message.

            Looking for a missing person isn’t so much as process of looking for the person, but finding someone who knows where the person is. In forty-five minutes, though, I’d run through the usual suspects.

            So after a cup of coffee I steeled my nerves and called Detective Anita Sharpe.

            “Jurgen? What the hell?” Her fingers were pounding on a keyboard. “I’m in the middle of ten reports. This better be important.”

            I winced. Sharpe and I got along fine, most days. I wasn’t sure this would be one of them. “There might be a new vampire around. His human name was Jason.” Most vampires take on a new name once they’re turned—something dramatic.  “Have you heard anything?”

            “Funny you should mention that.” She snorted. “Hawkins is on a scene that looks like a vamp murder. Maybe you should call him.”

            “He hates me.”

            “We all hate you, Jurgen.” But Sharpe laughed. “It’s just the job. Don’t take it personally.”

            I was used to that. “Thanks, detective.”

            Hawkins picked up his phone right away. “What? Jurgen? I don’t have time. I’m on a crime scene here.”

            “Is it a vampire killing?”

“Not that it looks like. The body’s right here. There’s blood and fur all over the place. Crime scene techs are still looking it over.”

            Fur? “Wait—who’s the victim?”

“Rigo Holland, in a dingy apartment over here on the west side. You have some special interest in this?”

I wasn’t sure. “I’m looking for a kid who might be a brand new vampire. Sharpe said—”

“I don’t care what she said. Body is bloody. Looks like the victim was a musician—there’s a couple guitars and posters of some band around the room. Vampire-something.”

My memory clicked. “Vampireca?”

“Let me—oh, yeah. That mean anything?”

The band that Jason liked. “Not sure. I’ll get back to you.” I hung up before he could ask me any questions.

I did an online search and found the band’s website in 3.2 seconds. Rigo Holland was Vampireca’s lead singer, backed by two other men and a woman. Not surprisingly, there was no mention of Holland’s death on the page. They might not even know.

I sent an email to the band’s agent, Linda Gilleran, asking if they’d had any contact with a young man named Jason Johansson. It seemed worth a shot.

Rachel and I were watching Mindhunter on Netflix that night when my phone buzzed. Linda Gilleran, Vamperica’s agent. “Just a second.”

            Rachel rolled her eyes and stood up, grabbing a mostly empty bowl of peanuts. “I’ll be right back.”

I picked up. “Tom Jurgen speaking.”

            “Mr. Jurgen? This is Linda Gilleran. I was unable to talk to the band during the day. You can imagine this has been a—difficult day.”

            “I bet.” I waited.

            “I’ve only spoken to Adam.” That would be Adam Marx, Vampireca’s keyboardist. “He doesn’t know the boy’s name, but he’s willing to talk to you.”

            I scribbled down a number. “Thanks. Uh, wait a minute?” My mind was scrambling. She was unable to talk to the band until this evening? “Are they vampires?”

            “W-what?” A short coking sound came from her throat.

            “It’s okay, I’ve talked to vampires.” Some of my best friends . . . “Are they?”

            “Y-yes. They are. I’m not,” she added defensively. “And they’ve never threatened me. It’s—we don’t talk about it much.”

            “I understand. Have the police been able to question them yet?”

            “Adam said someone named Hawkins had called him, and he’d already questioned Tina.” Tina Michelini, the bass player. “I assume he or someone will be talking to the rest tonight.”

            Wait a minute—Hawkins had said he had a body. Not all vampires instantly crumble into dust when they get staked, like on Buffy, but killing a vamp without staking it is—difficult.

            So why would Rigo’s body be intact?

Not a question Gilleran was likely to be able to answer. “Okay. Thank you.”

            “Vampires.” Rachel sighed. “Can’t you ever get hired to find someone’s runaway cat?”

            “I wish.” I moved to my dining room table. “This might take a while. Go ahead and watch the next episode.”

            She started the show as I called Adam Marx.

            I’d seen pictures on the band’s website. He had long black hair and wore sunglasses all the time. He picked up on the second buzz. “Yo.”

            “Adam Marx? This is Tom Jurgen. Linda Gilleran said I could call.”

            “Yeah.” He groaned. “Sorry. Tough day, you know.”

            “I understand. Have the police questioned you yet?”

            “Yeah, a woman named Sharpe. She just left. Look, Linda asked about Jason, but—look, I don’t want to talk on the phone. Can we get together?”

            “Where?”

The bar was called the Backroom, in Old Town. It was quiet and dark.

            “This doesn’t count as a date.” Rachel punched my arm as I held the door for her. “You still owe me from last week.”

            “Okay, okay.” I followed her inside, peered at the tables, and spotted Adam near the back.

            She’d insisted on coming because I was meeting a vampire. And I wanted her along because she’s at least a little psychic. We made a good team that way.

            Adam was sitting with Tina and the fourth from the band, an African-American man named Brandon Toth. Tina was a slender blonde in a T-shirt and jeans—I caught Rachel checking me out to make sure I wasn’t checking her out—and Brandon wore camouflage pants and a black sweatshirt.

            Adam stood up and looked Rachel over. “Hi.”

            Rachel smiled. “Hello there.”

            I bit my lip. Rachel was wearing a vest over a white T-shirt and slightly tight jeans. Okay, she looked good.

            I introduced myself and Rachel. “Thanks for talking to us.”

            “Whatever.” Tina stretched her arms, as if she was exhausted. “I just can’t believe—anything.”

            “He was 90 years old,” Adam said. “He claimed he played with the Stones at Altamont.”

            “I’m pretty sure he was lying about that.” Brandon sipped what looked like a Manhattan. “I mean, he might have been at Altamont. In the audience.”

            A waitress in a short skirt appeared. Rachel ordered a beer and a Coke for me.

            I looked around the table. “So about Jason—”

            “Yeah.” Adam nodded. “I didn’t want to tell Linda about him. He’s kind of a groupie. A little weird. But kind of sweet.”

            “We tolerated him.” Brandon shrugged. “It’s great to have fans, you know?”

            I nodded. “So, is he a vampire?”

            Adam glanced at Tina. Brandon stared at his drink.

            “I didn’t do it!” Tina slapped the table, shaking everyone’s drinks. “I found him outside after a show, and I took him home. He was—I remember my first days. You don’t know what you’re doing. I didn’t want him to get staked, so yeah, I took him home and we took care of him—”

            “We?”

            She glared. “Me and Rigo. We’re—we were together. Sometimes.”

            The waitress brought our drinks. “So do you know where Jason is now?” I sipped my Coke.

            “I haven’t seen him in over a week.” Tina shrugged. “Who knows? It’s not my problem.”

            “He called me last night.” Brandon tapped his fingers on the table. “He sounded fine. He wanted to know when our next show is.”

            “Where is he staying?”

            “I don’t know.” Adam looked at Rachel. “I let him stay at my place a couple of nights.” He winked. “But then he left.”

            Damn it. Was he hitting on Rachel in front of me? I tried to focus. “Do any of you have a number for him?”

            Adam and Brandon pulled out their phones. “Here.” Brandon shoved his screen in my face. “But he doesn’t answer.”

            I took down the number. Then, because I had to ask—“What do you think happened to Rigo?”

            Adam stiffened. Brandon looked down at his drink. Tina looked away.

            Rigo’s murder wasn’t my problem, unless Jason was involved somehow. The coincidence was pretty strong. But I’d hit some undead nerves. “Sorry. I was just—”

            “Weregild.” Adam made a fist. “Those bastards.”

“What’s the Weregild?” I glanced at Rachel. She’d been quiet, listening to everything, and that made me nervous. I felt her foot nudge my leg.

             “They hate us.” Tina looked up, her shoulders tense. “And, you know, the other way around.”

             “They’re werewolves.” Adam grimaced.

            “Oh my god.” Rachel’s eyes went wide. “You mean that’s not just a movie cliché?”

            “Don’t even bring up Twilight,” Brandon warned.

            “Stupid movie.” Tina made a gagging motion with her hand.

            “No, no.” Adam shook his head. “It’s not like an eternal war between vampires and werewolves. Mostly we get along fine. They’re just pretentious assholes.”

            “We played a few gigs with them.” Brandon finished his drink and waved to the waitress. “Always quoting Baudelaire and Bob Dylan like they knew both of them in person.”

            “Not showing up on time, overplaying their sets . . .” Adam leaned back, disgusted.

            “And their female singer’s a skank.” Tina closed her eyes, shuddering.

            I had to ask. “Do they . . . perform as werewolves?”

            Adam laughed. “They can’t perform at all when there’s a full moon. Otherwise . . . yeah, they usually do a transformation, but the leader singer goes backstage so no one sees it happen.”

            “You can control it,” Brandon said. “Except when there’s a full moon. I don’t know what they do then.”

            That might explain the fur in Rigo’s apartment. But again, that wasn’t my problem. Still, it was something to mention to Hawkins.

            I finished my Coke and glanced at Rachel. She nodded and stood up. “Thanks.”

            “Sorry about your loss.” I shook hands with the two men. Tina wrapped her arms around her chest and nodded without looking at me.

            Out in the Honda I tried the number for Jason. No answer. I left a message.

            “Did you pick up anything?” I checked over my shoulder and eased onto the street.

            “Tina’s—conflicted. The other two are just in shock. But she’s angry. At Rigo.”

            I shrugged. “They were dating, apparently. That usually leads to a certain amount of mixed feelings.” I braced myself for a punch.

            Instead she laughed and patted my knee. “You got that right.”

The next morning I tried Jason’s number again. Still no answer. I called his parents. They didn’t recognize the number, so maybe Jason had gotten a new phone. They said they’d call and let me know if they got an answer.

            Then I looked up “Weregild” on the internet.

            They billed themselves as a “wolf punk” band (as opposed to Vampireca, which described its music as “goth hip-hop”). Five members, four men and one woman. The woman, who went by Valentine without a last name, had long thin blonde hair like Tina and posed in a crop top under her profile picture. Whether or not she was a “skank” I couldn’t determine.

            Interesting coincidence: Linda Gilleran was their agent too.

            Whatever. Not my problem. I did leave a message for Hawkins, alerting him to the werewolf connection and asking about the presence of Rigo’s body. Then I moved on to other cases. No kitties in trees, but a few background checks, and a cheating spouse case I could probably deal with through credit card records.

            Then my phone buzzed. Anemone. What the hell? I looked through the window behind my table to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep at my laptop. “Is this—are you all right?”

            “I’m fine.” Anemone sighed softly. “I didn’t call back last night. It was . . . a long night.”

            “What’s going on?” Not that I cared about Anemone’s health. But if something happened to her, I’d have to find another vamp to replace as queen of the vampires for half of Chicago. Clifford Page wouldn’t want to take over as vampire king, and I didn’t know any other vamp who could do it.

            Still . . . okay, Anemone and I weren’t exactly friends. But I didn’t want her to die. And not just because it would be inconvenient for me. I’ve had too many people die on me.

            She took a gulp of something that I hoped was water. Or at least wine. “You wanted to know about JJ?”

            I stiffened. “Is that his name now?”

            She laughed. “I saw the picture you sent me. I found him the other night. Trying to attack a kid outside a bar. I slapped him around, took him home, gave him some blood, and then I let him go. I don’t know where he is right now. But he said he used to be Jason, so I’m pretty sure that’s who you’re looking for.”

            “Have you seen him since?”

            “No. I hope he’s staying out of trouble.” Another sip.

            “What do you know about a band named Vampireca? And another one called Weregild?”

            Anemone snorted. “Hipsters. If I didn’t know Rigo for years I’d think they were pretenders. Weregild—now they’re dangerous. They hunt.”

            “Humans?” I shivered. Chicago wasn’t ready for a new supernatural threat, even a year or so after the vampire wars.

            “Humans, animals, whatever they can get their claws into. Fortunately, they only have to hunt once a month, and from what I’ve heard, they take precautions—locking themselves up, sometimes, or simply providing a source of food so they don’t have to prowl.”

            Source of food? I didn’t want to ask. “Do you know them personally?”

            “I saw one of their concerts once. I don’t like their kind of music.”

            That was all I could think to ask. Except for one more question: “What are you doing up?

            Anemone laughed again. “Vampires get insomnia too.”