Oh, sure, I get yelled at, and the pixy gets told it doesn't matter. But as Ivy poked around, I drifted to the books in the overstuffed rocking chair, smiling at a familiar title. I reached for them, not wanting to leave this spot of innocence and good taste. A feeling of melancholy had overtaken me. I knew it was from my dilemma about having kids. If it had just been my blood disease, I might have taken my chances, but I couldn't face my children being demons.

I had let the hide-and-seek book slip from my fingers when Ivy gingerly came to a halt among the stuffed animals and pastel colors, standing as if the soft domesticity might be catching. "Is this the last room?" she asked, and when Edden nodded with a tired motion, she added, "Are you sure Glenn wasn't attacked somewhere else and dropped here?"

"Pretty sure. His prints on the walk come right to the door."

Her calm face showed a glimmer of anger. "There's nothing in this room either," she said softly. "Nothing. Not even a whisper from a cranky baby."

Seeing her ready to go, I stacked the books on a small table. The thump of a small cardboard doll hitting the floor drew my attention, and I picked it up. The lavish hide-and-seek book was extravagant for a small house in a depressed neighborhood, but after seeing the bedroom, I wasn't surprised. It was obvious they spared no expense when it came to their kid. Nothing fit. Nothing made sense.

Jenks flitted to Ivy's shoulder, clearly trying to cheer her up. She was having none of it and waved him away. Edden waited for me by the door as I leafed through the book to put the doll back. But there was already a hard bump in the pocket where it belonged.

"Just a minute," I said, using two fingers to dig it out. I didn't know why, but the doll needed to go back in her bed and I was the only one who could do it. That's what the oversize print said. And I was feeling melancholy. Edden could wait.

But when my fingertips connected with the smooth bump in the pocket, I jerked my hand out, jamming my fingers into my mouth before I knew what I was doing. "Ow!" I yelped from around my fingers, then stared at the book, now fallen onto the chair.

Edden's face became wary, and Jenks flew to me. Ivy stopped dead on the threshold, staring with eyes black from the surge of adrenaline I'd given off. Embarrassed, I took my fingers out of my mouth and pointed. "Something's in there," I said, feeling quivery inside. "It moved. Something is in that book! And it's furry." And warm, and it shocked the hell out of me.

Ivy came back in, but it was Edden who took his pen and stuck it in the pocket. The three of us crouched over the book while Jenks stood nearby and bent to look in.

"It's a stone," he said as he straightened, looking at me quizzically. "A black stone."

"It was furry!" I backed up a step. "I felt it move!"

Edden wedged the pen in, and a black crystal came sliding out to glint dully in the electric light. "There's your mouse," he said dryly, and I felt the blood fall to my feet as I recognized it.

It was a banshee tear. It was a freaking banshee tear.

"That's a banshee tear," both Ivy and I said together, and Jenks gave a little yelp, taking flight to flit madly between me and Ivy until he finally landed on my shoulder.

I stepped back, wringing my hand as if I could erase having touched it. Damn, I'd touched a banshee tear. Double damn, it was probably evidence.

"It felt furry?" the pixy said, and I nodded, eyeing my fingers. They looked okay, but it had been a banshee tear, and it gave me the creeps.

Edden's expression of confusion slowly cleared. "I've heard of these," he said, tapping it with his pen tip. Then he straightened to his entire height and looked me directly in the eye. "This is why there's no emotion here, isn't it."

I nodded, deciding this was why it looked like a home, but didn't feel like it. The banshee tear explained everything. The love had been sucked right out. "They leave them where there's likely to be a lot of emotion," I said, wondering why Ivy had gone pale. Well, paler than usual. "Sometimes they will tip the scales and make things worse—sort of push everyone to a higher pitch. The tear soaks everything up, and then the banshee comes back to collect it." And I had touched it. Euwie.

"A banshee did this?" Edden said, his anger slipping through a crack in his veneer of calm. "Made that man hurt my son?"

"Probably not," I said, thinking about what Matt had told me and glancing at Ivy. "If Mrs. Tilson was cheating on her husband, that's reason enough for a banshee to leave a tear. I bet she got it in here by posing as a babysitter or something."

I looked at the tear, heavy and dark with the stored emotion of Glenn's mauling—and I shivered, remembering how warm it had felt. "The I.S. has a record on every banshee in Cincinnati," I said. "You can analyze the tear, find out who made it. The banshee might know where they went. They usually choose their victims carefully and will follow them from place to place if the pickings are good. Though they prefer to feed passively, they can suck a person dry in seconds."

"I thought that was illegal." Edden slid the crystal into an evidence bag and sealed it.

"It is." Ivy's voice was mild, but I thought she looked ill.

Jenks was picking up on her mood, too. "You okay?" he said, and she blinked her softly almond-shaped eyes once.

"No," she said, her gaze falling to the tear. "Even if Mrs. Tilson was cheating on her husband, the suspect knew exactly where to hit Glenn to hurt but not maim. The house is clean to the point of obsession, but there's too much money being spent on the little girl and the wife for him to be a wife beater. The man doesn't even have a remote for the TV, for God's sake," she said, pointing to the unseen living room, "yet they have silk sheets and a baby computer."

"You think the woman beat him up?" I interrupted, and Ivy frowned.

Edden, though, was interested. "If she was an Inderlander, maybe a living vampire, she could do it. She'd know how to induce pain without damage, too."

Ivy make a noise of negation. "I'd be able to smell it if a vampire had visited, much less lived here," she said, but I had my doubts. Last year, I would have said it was impossible to make a charm to cover an Inderlander's scent from another Inderlander, but my mom had spelled my dad into smelling like a witch for their entire marriage.

I stood there and tried to figure it out, both Jenks and me jumping when Edden clapped his hands once. "Out," he said suddenly, and I protested when he manhandled me into the hall. "Ivy, you and Jenks can stay, but, Rachel, I want you out."

"Wait a minute!" I complained, but he kept me moving, yelling for someone to bring the vacuum. Ivy just shrugged, giving me an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Rachel," Edden said when we reached the activity of the living room, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. "You can poke around in the garage if you want."

"Excuse me?" I exclaimed. He knew I hated the cold. It was an offer that really wasn't one. "How come Ivy gets to stay and help?"

"Because Ivy knows how to handle herself."

That was just rude. "You suckwad! I'm the one who found the tear!" I said as I stood in the archway to the living room and watched everyone buzz about the new development. Several heads turned, but I didn't care. I was being gotten rid of.

Edden's face darkened with emotion, but his next words were postponed when Alex, the officer he had sent to watch my car, came in, cold on his breath and snow on his boots. "Ah, they won't be able to have a dog out to look at your car for a couple of hours," he said nervously, seeing Edden's anger directed at me. "There's a big Brimstone bust out at the Hollows airport."

I jumped as, suddenly, Ivy was next to me. "What's wrong with your car?" she asked, and I let my air out in a huff.