My pulse hammered when she dropped her eyes for an instant, then returned them to me. God help me, what have I become?

Mr. Ray wasn't convinced. "Give it to me," he demanded. "You can't hold it. You're a witch."

One down, one to go, I thought, scared, but to back down now would end my life more quickly than publicly claiming the stupid thing. "I'm his alpha," I said, nodding to David. "I say that says I can."

The man's eyes narrowed. Looking as if he had cracked a rotten egg, he said, "I'll make you part of my pack. That's my best offer. Take it."

"Take it or what?" I allowed a touch of sarcasm into my voice. "I have a pack, thank you. And why does everyone keep telling me I can't do things? I've got it. You don't. I'm not giving it to you. End of story. So you can stop killing each other trying to find out where it is."

"Simon," Mrs. Sarong said caustically, "shut your yap. She has it. Deal with it."

I would have tried to find a compliment in that but figured her support would only last until she found a way to kill me.

Mr. Ray met her gaze, and something I didn't understand passed between them. David felt it. So did every Were in the place. Like a wave, they all relaxed. I felt ill when both packs shifted and every weapon was put away. My worry tightened. Damn and double damn. I can't afford to trust this.

"I didn't target your aide," Mr. Ray said, his thick arms going to rest atop the table.

"I didn't touch your secretary," the woman said, taking out a compact and checking her makeup. It snapped shut, and she met his eyes squarely. "No one in my pack did either."

Just peachy damn keen. They were talking, but I didn't think I was in control. "Fine," I said. "Nobody is killing anybody, but we still have two murdered Weres." The two of them had given me their full attention, and my stomach knotted. "Look," I said, very uncomfortable, "someone besides us knows the focus is in Cincinnati and is looking for it. It might be the island Weres. Has either of you heard of a new pack in town?"

As I thought of Brett, they both shook their heads.

Okay. Swell. Back to square one. I wanted them to leave, so I leaned back as if in dismissal. I'd seen Trent do it a couple of times, and it seemed to work for him. "I'll keep looking for the murderer, then," I said, glancing at their thugs. "Until I figure out who's doing this, will you two let go of each other's throats?"

Mr. Ray sniffed loudly. "I will if she does."

Mrs. Sarong's smile was stilted and clearly false. "I can do the same. I need to make a few calls. Before sunset." A pointed look at her daughter and the young woman excused herself, cell phone in hand as she went outside. Mr. Ray gestured, and one of his men followed her.

I wondered what Mrs. Sarong had planned for sunset, then dismissed it. I didn't like the two of them fighting, but I liked this cooperation even less. Perhaps it was time for a little personal CYA. "The focus is hidden," I said. Sort of. "It's in the ever-after," I continued, and they stared at me, Mr. Ray's fingers twitching. Liar, I thought, not feeling a twinge of guilt. "Neither of you can find it, much less get it." Lie, lie, li-i-i-ie. "If I go missing, neither of you gets it. If any of my friends or family go missing, I'm going to destroy it."

Ever the one to test the limits in as crass a manner as possible, Mr. Ray harrumphed. "And I should take you seriously because… ?"

I stood, wanting them to leave. "Because you were ready to hire me to do something you couldn't. Kill Mrs. Sarong."

Mrs. Sarong smiled at him and shrugged.

Just a bit more, I thought, and maybe I can sleep tonight. "And because I have a demon who owes me a favor," I added, my pulse quickening.

No, a small part of my mind whispered, and I stifled a surge of fear for what I was doing. I was accepting that Minias owed me. I was accepting his bargain. I was dealing with demons. But the thought of these two people descending upon my life, setting fire to my church and burning it to the ground in search of that stupid statue filled me with a more immediate fear. Fear for myself, I could deal with. Fear for others, I couldn't.

"If something happens I don't like," I said, "he's going to come looking for you. And you know what?" My pulse pounded, and I held the table for balance as vertigo took me. "He likes killing things, so he might be a little overzealous about it. It wouldn't surprise me if he took you both out to be sure he gets the right person."

Mr. Ray's eyes dropped to my wrist, my demon mark clearly visible.

"Make your calls," I said, ready to dissolve into the shakes. "Calm your people. And keep your mouths shut. If the word gets out I've got it, it will decrease your chances that you'll find a way around my demon and get it yourself." I took a moment and captured their eyes. "Do we have an understanding?"

Mrs. Sarong stood, her purse in her tight grip before her. "Thank you for the drink, Ms. Morgan. It was a most enlightening conversation."

Kisten came out from behind the bar as she headed for the door, her entire entourage flowing into her wake. The sun entered in a flash as the door opened, and I squinted, feeling like I had been at the bottom of a hole for three weeks. Mr. Ray looked me up and down, his fleshy cheeks slack and unmoving. Giving me a nod, he made a gesture to his people and followed her out, their pace slow and provocative, weapons tucked away as they filed through the door.

I stood where I was until the last of them passed the threshold. I waited a bit longer until the door slipped shut and put me back in darkness. Only now did I give in and let my knees buckle. I could hear Kisten crossing the room, and I put my head on the table and sighed.

I had a reputation for dealing with demons. I didn't want it, but if it would keep those I loved safe, then I was going to use it.

Nineteen

Kisten's boat was big enough that the wake from the tourist steamers just smacked into it, never making the sleek cruiser move. I'd been on it before, even spent a couple of weekends learning how well voices carry over dark, still water and to take my shoes off at the dock. It was three decks if you counted the highest where the controls were. Big enough to party on, as Kisten said, but small enough that he didn't feel like he had extended his reach.

Well, it's beyond my reach, I thought as I sopped up the last of the spaghetti sauce off the lightweight china with a corner of grilled bread. But if you were a vampire whose boss ran the uglier parts of Cincinnati's underground, appearances mattered.

The bread had been swiped from Piscary's kitchen nearby. I had a feeling the sauce had been, too. I didn't care if Kisten was trying to pass it off as his own cooking by warming it up on his tiny stove. The point was, we were having a relaxing dinner instead of arguing that I had put my job before his plans to take me out for my birthday.

I looked up and across the candlelit, sunken living room, my plate balanced on my lap. We could have eaten in the kitchen or out on the spacious veranda, but the kitchen was claustrophobic and the veranda too exposed. My encounter with Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong had me uneasy. Add on Tom's shunned invitation and you could color me paranoid.

Being surrounded by four walls was much better. The luxuriously appointed living room stretched from one side of the boat to the other, looking like a movie set, with wide windows showing the city lights and moon shining on water to one side, curtains closed on the other so I didn't have to look at Piscary's parking lot.

Technically Kisten was working—which was why we were here and not at a real restaurant—but when we had slipped into the kitchen to snatch a bottle of wine and the bread, I'd heard him tell Steve that he didn't want to be bothered unless blood was in someone's mouth.