"Still sounds like something we need to check out."

DISCIPLES OF ASMODAI

HOPE FOUND WORK AND HOME ADDRESSES for Botnick. Jeremy, with his new prepaid cell, headed out on a tracking expedition. He invited me along, but I figured I'd only get in the way. Hunting was his area. I'd stay behind with Hope as she dug up details on the contact names the Ehrich Weiss Society had provided us.

We went to her office. No need to worry about being caught researching S and M cults on an office computer-in Hope's line of work, she'd get commended for putting in the extra effort.

No one else was working overtime. The office was barely larger than her apartment, and not nearly as clean. It stank of burned coffee, stale burritos and overflowing ashtrays that shot a middle finger to the state's workplace smoking ban.

There was one semiprivate room, presumably for the editor. In the main area, a central table was covered with papers, printers and fax machines. Four to six desks were crammed along the walls-it was tough to tell the exact number, the way papers spilled from one surface to the next, and cables snaked everywhere.

As we picked our way through the cable jungle, Hope explained that few of the staff worked from the office. Most spent their days on the streets, tracking down the latest celebrity infidelity or plastic surgery rumor.

We'd just settled in when Jeremy called to say he'd found Botnick closing down his shop. He'd follow him and see where he went.

When I hung up, Hope was tapping away at the keyboard. I glanced at a stack of papers. The top one looked like an edited printout of an article with her byline.

"Mind if I…?" I waved at the article.

"Enjoy. Oh, and I think we need to bring that particular case to the attention of the council right away. Definitely threat potential."

"Demon transmitters in breast implants?"

"Hey, at least it's not alien transmitters. You have no idea how sick I am of aliens-sightings, implants, abductions… it never ends. But demons? That's a lot rarer. Obviously the whole 'impregnating human women and creating a master race to take over the world' thing isn't working out for them. If I'm the best they can do, the apocalypse is in serious trouble. As a backup plan, controlling large-breasted women isn't too shabby."

"Start with subliminal messages in Hustler. Work your way up to Playboy… I can see it."

"If anyone can bring down the politicians in this country, it's hot women with breast implants."

I laughed. "Any more tips for the council in here?" I asked, pointing to the stack.

"Nah. There's a piece on a body found with fang marks. Cassandra and Aaron suspect it's a vampire's annual kill. They're investigating, and will give the careless vamp a slap on the wrist, but they told me not to bother killing the story. Corpses with fangmarks? Passe. And even if my editor had wanted me to investigate it for a full-blown article, I could convince him it wasn't worth the inches. That's mostly what I do-not so much suppressing real supernatural stories as downplaying them and, in most cases, like this one, even that isn't necessary."

"Must be an… interesting job."

She grinned. "Oh, come on. Say it. Cheesy is the word."

"You're talking to a woman who pretends to contact the dead and returns the same message every time. Cheesy is my life."

"Fun, isn't it?"

I smiled. "Yes. Yes, it is."

We talked about her job as she continued to search for informa-tion, multitasking like a pro. After a half-hour, Jeremy called again to say he was outside Botnick's home. He'd keep watch for another hour or so, see whether this was just a pit stop or if the man was settling in for the night.

At nine-thirty, Jeremy checked in. Botnick-who lived alone-had eaten, and was now in front of the television. As it looked likely he was home for the duration, Jeremy decided it was a good opportunity to take a closer look at his store. He asked me to pass him to Hope.

At his request, she zoomed in on an aerial photograph of Botnick's shop, then relayed its layout and potential entry points.

"So you're doing a little B and E?" she said. "Too bad Karl's in Massachusetts."

She paused.

"Ah, Arizona this week, is it? Glad someone knows where that man is. If you need him, though, you tell him to haul his ass over here. Whatever job he's pulling, he doesn't need the money and this is more important." She tapped at her keyboard. "Speaking of help, could you use ours? We can be there in-"

She paused. "No, I understand, but I could help. Karl's taught me a few things about casing a place-strictly for information, of course-and I'm sure the extra eyes would come in handy."

Another pause. She nibbled her lip, eyes down as she listened.

"I know, but I'd love to help, risks or no risks. Hey, if things do go wrong, I'll even take the fall for you. I'm an ambitious tabloid reporter-no one's going to question why I'm breaking into a place like that. Plus, it's experience, right? If I'm helping the council, I need to build up my arsenal of skills, legal and otherwise."

There was a note of puppyish pleading in her voice. She reminded me of Paige-always in the thick of things, taking any risk to help others. Frustrated from hours of research, I found myself sharing her enthusiasm, even seconding it loud enough for Jeremy to overhear.

After a moment, she grinned at me, flashed a thumbs-up, then handed back my phone. "He wants us to meet him in the lot behind the shop in ninety minutes. That'll give him time to find a way in first."