I leaned across the space to my dresser and brought my FIB reports over. "Where is it?"

There was a soft shuffling of paper. "Ah, hold on." There was another moment of silence. "Nine thirty-one Palladium Drive."

A quiver started in my belly as I snatched the reports off my dresser and the addresses leapt out at me. Bingo. "David, get that claim. I'm looking at the obituary of the guy who owned that house. And get this. He had a record of grave robbing while in college."

David's laugh was low and eager. "Rachel, my boss ought to be paying you for all the money you're saving him. The damage was demon wrought?"

"Probably." Damn, this was coming together nicely. I deserved a night off. And if I stayed in my church, I'd live through it. Please, don't let this be Nick.

"Oka-a-a-a-ay," David said, his voice tight and eager. "Promise me you won't move tonight. I'll see about getting the claim, and we'll go from there. You need anything? Ice cream? Popcorn? I want you to stay in your church."

My head shook, though he couldn't see it. "I'm fine. Let me know when you're ready to go out. The sooner, the better."

His thoughts already on other matters, he growled a good-bye. I wasn't much better, mumbling something before I hung up and headed for the kitchen. I loved kicking ass, but the next best thing was making the spells that made kicking ass easier.

I was deep in anticipation when I found the hall, my mind already going over what I'd want to take to confront experienced demon summoners specializing in ley line manipulation. Heavy magic-detection charms…maybe a disguise amulet for that precious moment of distraction that could be the difference between falling down or staying upright…a couple of the zippy strips Glenn had traded me for ketchup that kept ley line witches from tapping a line and using ley line magic. I was going to have a busy night.

The hallway was dark, and I jerked to a halt just past my door, frowning. Ivy had put up a sign dangling by threads from the ceiling; clearly Jenks had assisted her. God help her, she had used a stencil, and I snatched at the yellow poster board, reading BEYOND THIS POINT, THERE BE DEMONS in bright red lettering. Crap on toast. I had forgotten about that.

When Jenks had bought the church from Piscary's estates, he had insisted I pay to get it resanctified, and though I had protested, I eventually agreed to keep the back end of the church unsanctified, as it had been originally. Not all of our clients were living, and Ivy said that interviewing the undead on the porch steps was unprofessional. The result was the kitchen and back living room weren't holy. In the past, Al had always seemed to know when I stepped from secure ground, and after my wrist had flamed in agony before he showed up to trash Patricia's charm shop, I figured I knew how he did it. I have to get rid of this thing, I thought, gently rubbing the raised scar. As I hesitated in the dark, weighing my risk, the front doorbell rang.

Immediately I spun on my heel. "I got it!" I shouted before Jenks could leave the desk. He and Matalina got precious little time alone as it was. They may have gone into the desk arguing, but I knew they wouldn't end that way. The man had fifty-four kids.

Rex skittered past me when I burst into the sanctuary at an easy jog, the fluffy-tailed cat thinking I was going for her. It was too soon for Marshal, and if it was some early trick-or-treaters, I was going to mess with their minds. I hadn't even gotten my tomatoes yet.

I slapped Ivy's sign down upon her piano for her to find, then padded into the dark foyer in my stocking feet. I paused to let my eyes adjust to the close darkness of the narrow room between the sanctuary and the front door. One of these days, I was going to invest in a drill and peephole.

Ready to give whoever was begging early some grief, I pushed the heavy wooden door open, and the yellow glow of the light illuminating the sign above the door spilled in. A soft scuff of dress shoes drew my attention, and I crossed my arms over my middle as I saw who it was, whose Jag was idling at the curb.

"Well, well, well," I drawled, seeing Trent in full costume. "It's a little early for trick-or-treats, but I might have a few pennies to give you."

"Excuse me?" the spell-enhanced, rather imposing man said. His charmed-brown eyes widened, and he turned to his car in a rustle of silk and linen, taking off a smart-looking hat to show off his mid-length black hair, restyled to Rynn Cormel's latest photo. Man, he looked good, slightly older, taller, and somehow more sophisticated. Sort of like the reverse card of himself, dark where he was usually light and vice versa. Same build, though: trim and lean—nice. I liked tall.

The black overcoat he had on went down to his ankles and contrasted beautifully with his new pale complexion, as I'd known it would. He had taken my advice and picked up a charm to change his scent, and the delicious aroma of vampire eased over me, mixing with a hint of expensive cologne. He wasn't wearing the glasses, but they peeked out from the top of an exterior breast pocket of his coat. A gray cashmere scarf fluttered about his neck, and I noticed it matched his shoes, now a nice flat black instead of his usual shiny ones.

"Wow," I said, cocking my hip and putting my hand against the door frame to prevent him from coming in, "they even did the voice. I didn't think they could do that. How much did that set you back?"

Trent brought his attention down from the bats hanging in the sanctuary to give me a closed-lipped smile from under his raised eyebrows. They were thick and black, very unlike his pale wisps, and it made reading his emotions easier. He looked highly amused as his smile widened, showing a slip of long canine. He'd gone for the more realistic caps, and I felt an unhelped pulse of adrenaline dive to my middle at the mix of vampiric threat and lure. I wondered if that was why Trent was standing on my doorstep—trying to get a rise out of me. Or maybe he was rethinking his stellar decision to go into the ever-after and thought showing me his twenty-thousand-dollar costume would impress me.

Suddenly wishing I'd never helped him, I blanked all the emotion from my face except for a bothered annoyance. "What do you want?" I said snidely. "Is this about Ceri? You know, letting me walk out of there thinking you got her pregnant was low even for you. If I wasn't going to go into the ever-after for you then, I sure as hell wouldn't work for you now." Yeah, I was mad at Ceri, but I was still her friend.

Trent's eyes fixed on me, his pupils widening slightly in surprise. "I'm very glad to hear that, Ms. Morgan. Avoiding Mr. Kalamack is one of the items I wanted to talk to you about."

I froze, alarmed. Not only had his voice lacked its musical cadence, but the accent was very New York.

The sound of a car door opening jerked my attention past Trent to the curb. The man getting out of the driver's side wasn't Jonathan or Quen. No, this guy was bigger, with wide shoulders and arms as big as my legs. I could tell by his grace that he was a living vampire. Trent didn't employ vampires unless absolutely necessary. The man in black pants and a stretchy black T-shirt by the car crossed his arms over his chest and fell into a parade rest that looked threatening even at forty feet away.

Swallowing hard, my gaze returned to the man on my stoop. I didn't think it was Trent anymore. "You're not Trent, are you," I said, and I flushed when he flashed me the beautiful smile Rynn Cormel was known for.

"No."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, Mr. Cormel." I stammered, wondering if I could make this any worse. Ivy's number one was standing on our doorstep, and I'd just insulted him. "Ivy's not here right now. Do you want to come in and wait?"

Looking utterly alive, the man threw his head back and laughed, long and deep. I warmed. Damn it, he was undead. He couldn't come in on holy ground. And asking him to wait had been stupid. Like he had time to wait for my roommate?