“Could we? Really?”

“Do you have them?”

“Good-bye, Savannah.”

He hung up. I sat there with the phone to my ear for at least a minute. Then I said to Adam, still shaving, “Next time I start tripping over myself to be nice to Bryce, slap me, okay? Just slap me.”

“You didn’t give much away.”

“I wasn’t going to get anything either. I know better. Which means I should have done this first.” I called Sean’s cell phone back and left a message, explaining the situation and my talk with Bryce, asking him to call when he could.

As I disconnected, someone rapped at the door.

“I paid for another night in case we need it,” Adam said. “That’s probably housekeeping.”

I opened the door. There stood a short, gaunt man dressed in clothes covered in a decade of filth.

“Not housekeeping,” I called, then turned to the homeless man. “Look, I’m sure this saves time, knocking on doors instead of sitting on the corner, but you’ve got to pick a better class of motel. Folks here are as likely to take your money as give you some.”

The man lifted his head. His beard was streaked with dried vomit. There was a dent the size of a golf ball in his temple, and a chunk of skull was missing. Brain matter oozed through.

“It’s for you,” I called to Adam.

The dead homeless guy grunted and pushed past me into the room.

thirteen

“It’s a zombie,” I said to Adam, now standing in the open bathroom doorway.

“You think?” He turned to the dead guy. “Kimerion, I presume?”

“Yes. Have I interrupted an intimate moment?”

Adam arched an eyebrow, then cast a pointed look at me—fully dressed—then at the bed, still made with our laptops on it.

“Only a passing familiarity with human intimacy, I take it?” Adam said.

“You never know,” I said. “Maybe the people he hangs out with just lie on the bed together and surf porn sites on their laptops. Evolution at its finest.”

“Or its cleanest,” Kimerion said. “Human reproduction is so messy. All those bodily fluids.”

“Speaking of bodily fluids . . .” I pointed to the snail’s trail of putrefaction he had left in his wake. “Next time you need a dead body? Shopping is much better at the morgue. Cleaned up, stitched up, and prettied up. You’d look almost human.”

He curled his lip, revealing teeth the color of maggots. Or maybe they were maggots.

“Don’t take another step.” I went into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, put it on the chair, and motioned for him to sit. As he did, I spritzed him.

“My aftershave?” Adam said.

“It’s cheaper than my perfume.” I turned to Kimerion. “So, who stole my thunder?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then what is this? A social visit?”

He gave me a withering look. “No. I found something else you might consider useful. I realized that may happen as I continue this investigation, and if it does, we may wish to extend our agreement to cover it.”

“So you want to be paid for the leads that don’t actually solve the case?” I turned to Adam. “Why don’t we do that? If we’re investigating, and we find out someone’s screwing around or cheating his company, we can sell that information to the highest bidder.”

“We could. If we were demons.”

“Ah, right. There’s the rub. Our pesky human consciences.” I glanced back at Kimerion. “We’re not bargaining for every useless scrap—”

“Not even if it pertains to a recent case of yours? A certain Volo half-demon’s untimely departure from her hell dimension?”

When I blinked, he smiled. “I thought that might change your mind. Did you stop to wonder how Leah O’Donnell escaped? It’s not that easily accomplished, as may be evidenced by the fact that your world isn’t currently overrun by the spirit of every evildoer in history.”

“Yes, it’s harder than escaping from Alcatraz. So I’ve heard. But it does happen. I’ve heard that, too.”

“True. But Leah O’Donnell, while possessing a great power and a remarkable amount of animal cunning, lacked the intellect necessary to carry out her plan. So why was she able to escape hell when so many of her betters cannot?”

“You have the answer?”

“No. But when Leah was freed, she tormented a necromancer, who may know more. I can give you the name—”

“Got it.”

Kimerion hesitated.

“Gary Schmidt,” I said.

“Who told you that? Another demon?”

Adam cut in before I could answer. “Not important.”

“So it was another demon.” Kimerion gripped the chair so hard a finger snapped off. “I do not appreciate competing for the attention of mortals, even Asmondai’s son.”

“But you would appreciate knowing what Schmidt tells us, right?”

The demi-demon hesitated, then shrugged. “It could help us find out what has become of the witch’s powers. So sharing that information would be in your best interests. Otherwise . . .” Another shrug. “It is of no import.”

“No? Then we won’t trouble you with it.”

Kimerion grumbled and shifted and tried again to insist he was only doing us a favor, letting us bring him any information we might learn from Schmidt so he could put it into context for us. Finally, he gave up the pretense and spat, “Asmondai wants to know who freed the Volo.”

“Then say so,” Adam said. “Don’t set us on this trail pretending you’re doing us a favor. Who does Asmondai think freed Leah?”

“I am not privy to my master’s thoughts.”

Kimerion was lying, but when I glanced over, Adam only dipped his chin, telling me he knew Kimerion wasn’t telling the truth. He circled the question a few times, before Kimerion said, “I can give you more leads. Not answers, but leads.”

“In return for what?”

“A boon. A simple one, which will buy you all the extraneous information uncovered in the course of my investigation.”

“What’s the boon? I’ll tell you right now, we don’t do sacrifices. And if it’s sex?” I pointed at the bed. “There’s the laptop. Knock yourself out.”