“So those were Tengu,” I said as I drove. “I’ve heard of them, but not much. Like you said, they don’t cross over.”

“No,” Mom murmured. “Not usually. They can, though, under special circumstances.”

“A ritual?”

She shook her head. “War. The Tengu are harbingers of war.”

When we were far enough from the motel to be sure we’d lost the Tengu, Jaime called Lucas and put us on speakerphone. I explained what had happened.

For the second time that day, I rendered Lucas speechless.

“So the Tengu do not appear to be directly connected to the sorcerer who invoked the hell-beast,” he finally said.

“Right. They apparently saw Mom cross over and they came for her, but it’s a completely separate shit storm. I don’t know if you wanted us to do anything with the poor guy in the motel room …”

“No. If we have unconscious children in the parking lot, you need to stay away. I’ve already sent a message to divert part of the security team from the police station, but under the circumstances, I’m not sure they’ll make it before someone discovers the operative’s body.”

Another voice came on. “We can still handle this. Two more teams are on their way to New Orleans, one security detail and one media cleanup team.”

“Hey, Benicio,” Mom said. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has,” he said. “I’d say it’s good to hear you, Eve, but …”

“I’m back and causing trouble already. I know.”

“So what do you guys want us to do?” I asked. “Hole up? Come to Miami?”

“I’m not going to Miami,” Mom said before they could answer. “We’ve identified the sorcerer and we have a list of potential contacts. I’ve got a contact of my own here who can go through that list and pick out the supernaturals. That’s my next stop.”

Lucas and Benicio wanted her in Miami. Preferably in an impregnable cell, I think. Mom argued that her contact wouldn’t speak to anyone else. Take Jaime to Miami. Take me to Miami. Leave Mom to face any potential kidnappers alone. If she wasn’t putting anyone else at risk, that was her choice.

They agreed on the last part. I didn’t. Mom needed someone to watch her back.

That didn’t sit well with either Mom or Lucas, but they eventually agreed to a compromise. Jaime would leave. I’d stay, but only until they sent in someone with no personal connection to my mother—maybe Clay and Elena—to take over.

I agreed to that, and we headed to the regional airport where the Cortez jet was about to land.

Before Jaime left, I gave her a few minutes alone with Mom. They both said they didn’t need it—joked that they “saw” each other too often as it was. But I insisted. In all those years that they’d worked together—that they’d been friends, as I now realized—they’d never actually inhabited the physical plane together. They hadn’t met until Mom was long dead.

To say my mother was not the hugging type is an under-statement. Growing up, I don’t think I ever saw her make affectionate physical contact with anyone except me. But now, when I stepped away to give them that moment alone and they embraced, I saw how much it meant, and not just to Jaime.

Mom stayed until the jet lifted off. Then we took my new cell phone and left the damaged rental car at the airfield for Benicio to deal with. He’d rented us another—a small Mercedes, which was probably his idea of an economy vehicle—expendable, should we destroy it, too.

TWELVE

Mom’s old contact lived in a trailer park just off the I-10. I figured he’d been displaced by Katrina and still didn’t have a home, but Mom said no, Toby had always lived in a trailer.

If I hadn’t known this area had been spared by the hurricane, I’d have been sure this particular trailer had been swept away by the floods and dragged back. It certainly looked that way. It even seemed to have mud spatter, until I got close enough to see it was rust. A lot of rust. One window was boarded up. The roof sagged at two corners. A single hinge held the screen door in place. Where other trailers had nice grass front “yards” and even flower beds, this one had mud, with beer cans piled as statuary.

Otherwise it was a decent trailer park. Respectable enough that we felt comfortable leaving the Mercedes in the visitors lot, though Mom did cast a security spell on it.

We didn’t worry about sneaking up on the derelict trailer—the remaining windows were dark with blackout blinds.

“What’s his type?” I asked as we approached.

“Blondes, I think. You’re safe.”

I gave her a look.

“He’s an Aduro,” she said. Midgrade fire half-demon. “You know how to handle that, I take it?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

She walked up to the side of the trailer, put her fingers to the aluminum, and rubbed, as if clearing a peephole through dirty glass. That’s exactly what she was doing, except as an Aspicio half-demon, she could see through more than just glass.

She shaded her eyes and peered through. Then she repeated the process further along.

“He’s home,” she murmured. “Watching TV. I’m going to have you head around the back. If I’m right, another boarded-up window doubles as an escape hatch.”

“Got it.”

I found the boarded window and waited while Mom knocked at the door. A minute passed. Then the wood over the window opened. A bald guy with glasses poked his head out.

“Hello,” I said.

Toby stopped. Blinked. Glanced back toward the front of the trailer.

“No, you’re not seeing double,” I said. “My mother is still at the front door.”

“You’re …” His eyes widened, magnified by his thick glasses. “Shit!”

He swung at me, fingers blazing. Those glowing hands would have worked better if I hadn’t grown up around Adam. A sharp sideswipe to his forearms knocked them down and knocked him off-balance. As he tumbled from the window, I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright.

“Got him!” I called.

Mom rounded the corner. Toby had been struggling, but he went still when he saw her.