The tea had turned to cold swill, but I finished it anyway and dropped the last of my bankroll on Abra's counter. She could tell me precious little, just that a biotech company was somehow tied up in Eddie's work, perhaps bankrolling it; someone wanted me dead; the Mob wanted me brought in; the Nichtvren wanted to see me, and the werecain-who knew what they wanted? Revenge, maybe, I'd killed a couple 'cain awhile ago during the hunt for Mirovitch. They have long memories.

Or maybe it was something else.

In any case, I owed her, both for the information and for losing my temper.

She looked at me, rubbing her throat. "Put that away." She was still hoarse. "I don't work for you, Danny."

"I know you don't." The apology stuck in my throat. I'm sorry, Abra. I shouldn't have done that. I didn't touch the money, just left it there. Backed up two steps, my eyes not leaving hers.

She shrugged, the thin gold hoops shivering against her cheeks. "What are you going to do?"

I never thought I'd live to see Abracadabra ask me that with her eyes wide like a frightened child's. I looked away, toward the privacy-tinted windows. Out there in the streets were Mob freelancers and assassins, corpclones and bounty hunters-not to mention werecain and Nichtvren-all waiting for a piece of me. Lucky me, dropping into the middle of a turf war and not even realizing it.

"First I'm going to go out your back door," I said tonelessly. "Then I'm going to start digging. I want you to put the word out, Abra. Tell everyone who comes to you that whoever hit Gabe and Eddie should put their estate in order. 'Cause when I get finished with them, even another Necromance isn't going to be able to bring them back." I paused. It wasn't for effect, but Abra's eyes widened.

"Danny… be careful." She folded her arms. "Although you're never careful, that's how you ended up smelling like a demon."

That reminded me. "You know of any Magi willing to let go of trade secrets for a price, Abra?"

"No." The gold hoops shivered as she shook her dark head, looking puzzled. "Closemouth bastards. Why?"

The mark on my left shoulder pulsed slightly, responding to the thought of Japhrimel. The almost-constant pulses of Power had settled into a rhythm, one I welcomed despite the way they made my skin crawl. I drew on this mark, I could do it again. Will that tell Japhrimel where I am? "Ineed to get some more answers about demons. And Fallen. And hedaira."

Her jaw dropped. "You mean you-"

If one more person said You mean you don't know? I was going to scream. I knew enough, I just had to figure out how to make it work for me.

I headed for the stairs behind the Employees Only door.

"I'm going out the back. Spread the word, Abra. Whoever hit Gabe and Eddie is dead, they just don't know it yet." Lucas fell into step behind me.

"Valentine?" Leander sounded uncertain.

He's human, and he could have died back there facing down a hellhound. I'm too dangerous to hang out with, even for combat-trained psions. This is going to get real interesting really quickly.

"Go home, Leander. Forget all about this." I ducked through the door, my boots moving soundlessly. "We're even."

"Valentine-Valentine! Dante!"

But I shut the door and threw the deadbolt, sure Abra would have a key and just as sure she wouldn't give it to him right away. She was never one to give anything, and Leander couldn't effectively threaten her. If he decided to go out the front door she'd delay him for a few minutes, long enough for Lucas and me to vanish.

Lucas matched me step for step. We made it up the stairs, he pushed in front of me and led me up the ladder to the attic in the top hall; we pulled it up after ourselves, hinges squeaking. "Which one we gonna do first?" he finally asked as I fitted the attic hatch back into its seating. He fiddled with the trapdoor leading to the roof.

"The werecain. He's the bigger mystery. We'll get him roped up and then you can chat with our other set of eyes. Meet me tomorrow at the corner of Trivisidiro and Fourth, at dusk. Have I thanked you lately, Lucas?"

"No need, your boyfriend fuckin' paid me." Now he sounded irritated. I shrugged, though he probably couldn't see it in the darkness of Abra's stuffy, dusty attic. Her house shields vibrated uneasily, then pulled back a little so we could slip out the back door. I wondered again just what she was, and felt shame rise behind my breastbone. Had I really half-strangled her against the wall?

Just like Lucifer. Just like a demon.

The thought spilled cold down my back. When you hunt monsters, you have to be a monster-but not too much of one.

Bounty hunting taught me as much.

How close to the edge of monster was I? "What did Japhrimel pay you, Lucas?"

"Enough that I'm going to see this through." Cold air sparkled through the trapdoor as he eased it open. "You comin', Valentine?"

I shoved my sword into the loop on my rig. "You better believe it."

We dropped on the werecain two alleys away. Literally dropped, I went over the edge of the roof soundlessly and landed cat-light, my main knives reversed along my forearms. Lucas actually landed on the 'cain, destroying the advantage of surprise, but the eight-foot-tall bundle of muscle and fur was so busy with him it gave me time to streak up through piles of stinking human refuse.

I willed myself to ignore the thunderous odor as I slashed at the 'cain's hamstrings. The alley was too narrow for swordwork and I didn't want to make the noise of plas or projectile guns. Flesh gave like water under my blade and my rings ran with golden sparks. The 'cain would have howled, but I leapt and dragged it back, my slim arm over its throat, strangling its protest. Hot copper stink of blood, the blade of my left-hand knife singing against my forearm, my right-hand blade pricking just under the 'cain's floating ribs on the left. I could work the knife in here and go for a kidney, if my knowledge of werecain anatomy was sound. It was in full huntform, and not that different from a human if you knew where to jab.

The amber rectangle on my right-hand second-finger ring sparked as I yanked on Power, deftly snapping invisible weights tight around the werecain's wrists and ankles. It would cost me-but better to be safe than sorry where an eight-foot bundle of lethal muscle and claw is concerned.

Besides, all the Power I would ever need sang through the demon mark on my shoulder. I didn't precisely want to use it-gods alone knew what the price would be-but if it came down to it, any tool at hand was all right by me. I'd deal with consequences later.

If there was a later.

In short order, Lucas had the 'cain trussed-up with a length of discarded plasilica fiberoptic grubbed up from the floor of the trash-strewn alley. I'd almost suspect you've done this before, Lucas, the lunatic voice of hilarity in the middle of an impossible situation caroled through my brain.

The Deathless vanished into the shadows at the alley's entrance, going to take care of the other pair of eyes. I promptly put both problems out of my mind.

I kept my arm across the cain's throat as it pitched and struggled, trying to throw me off. The advantage of almost-demon strength was a thin one-I was breathing hard by the time I got him wrestled to the ground, my knees braced against cold wet concrete that smelled like… well, garbage.

Mercifully, my nose shut off. Something about 'cain scent, it overloads nasal receptors in everyone other than swanhild and another werecain after a while. Given how most of them reek, it's a goddamn blessing. "Cooperate with me," I snarled in his ear, "or I'll use psi on you. I mean I t."