"There's a driver's license," Phury muttered. "I'll scope the address. It's local."

"What's the name?" Wrath demanded.

"Robert Strauss."

Vishous cursed as he examined the phone. "There's not much here. Some shit in the call log, some speed dials. I'll hit the computer and find out who's been calling and what's been dialed."

Wrath gritted his teeth. Impatience and rage were a hell of a cocktail to swallow. "I don't need to tell you to work fast. There's no way to know whether the lesser I picked off tonight was the one who did it, so I'm thinking we need to do a clean sweep of this whole area. Kill them all no matter how messy it gets."

The front door swung open, and Zsadist strode into the house.

Wrath glared. "Nice of you to show up, Z. Busy tonight with the females?"

"How about you get off my dick?" Zsadist went over to the corner, staying away from the rest.

"Where you going to be, my lord?" Tohrment asked smoothly.

Good old Tohr. Always trying to keep the peace, whether by distraction, intervention, or flat-out bullying.

"Here. I'm going to stay here. If the lesser who nailed Darius is alive and interested in playing some more, I want to be available and easy to find."

After the warriors left, Wrath pulled on his jacket. In the process Darius's envelope poked him in the side, and he took it from his waistband. There was a strip of ink on the front, which he assumed was his name. He cracked open the flap. As he drew out a creamy piece of paper, a photograph fluttered to the ground. He picked it up and had the vague impression of long dark hair. A female.

Wrath stared at the paper. The writing ran together, a meaningless, blurry scrawl he had no hope of deciphering no matter how hard he squinted.

"Fritz!" he called out.

The butler came rushing in.

"Read this."

Fritz took the sheet and bent his head, falling into silence.

"Aloud," Wrath bit out.

"Oh. My apologies, master." Fritz cleared his throat. " 'If I haven't spoken to you already, ask Tohrment for details. Eleven eighty-eight Redd Avenue, apartment one-B. Her name is Elizabeth Randall. P.S. The house and Fritz are yours if she doesn't survive to adulthood. Sorry it had to end so soon. D.'"

"Son of a bitch," Wrath muttered.

Beth had changed into her nocturnal wardrobe of boxers and a T-shirt, and was pulling the futon out flat when Boo began to meow at the sliding glass door. The cat paced in a tight circle, eyes trained on something outside.

"Are you trying to get at Mrs. Di Gio's tabby again? We did that once and it didn't go well, remember?"

A pounding on her front door brought her head around and kick-started her heart.

She walked over and put her eye to the peephole. When she saw who it was, she rolled over and pressed her back against the cheap wood panels.

The pounding started again.

"I know you're in there," Hard-ass said. "And I'm going to keep this up."

She flipped the locks and threw open the door. Before she could tell him to go to hell, he barged past her.

Boo lifted his back and hissed.

"Pleased to meet you, too, Panther Boy." Butch's deep drawl seemed totally out of place in her apartment.

"How did you get into the lobby?" she said as she shut the door.

"I picked the lock."

"Was there any particular reason you chose this building to break into, Detective?"

He shrugged and sat down in her tattered wing chair. "Thought I'd visit a friend."

"So why are you bothering me?"

"Nice place you got," he said, looking at her stuff.

"You're such a liar."

"Hey, at least it's all clean. Which is more than I can say about my own hovel." His dark, hazel eyes went to her face and stayed there. "Now, let's talk about what happened when you left work tonight, shall we?"

She crossed her arms over her chest.

He chuckled softly. "Man, what's Jose got that I don't?"

"You want a pen and some paper? It's quite a list."

"Ouch. You're cold, you know that?" His tone was amused. "Tell me, do you only like the unavailable ones?"

"Look, I'm exhausted-"

"Yeah, you left work late. Nine forty-five-ish. I talked to your boss. Dick said you were still at your desk when he went to Charlie's. You walked home, didn't you? Down Trade Street. Just like I'll bet you do every night. And you were alone. For a while."

Beth swallowed as a soft sound brought her eyes to the sliding glass door. Boo was back to his pacing and meowing, his eyes reaching out into the darkness.

"Now, are you going to tell me what happened when you hit the intersection of Trade and Tenth?" His eyes softened.

"How do you know-"

"Just talk to me. And I promise, I'll make sure that motherfucker gets it right good."

Wrath stood in the still night, staring at the shape of Darius's daughter. She was tall for a human female, and her hair was black, but that was all his eyes could tell him. He breathed in, but he couldn't catch her scent. Her doors and windows were shut, and the wind blowing from the west carried the fruity decay of trash.

He could hear the drone of her voice through the closed door, however. She was talking to someone. A man whom she apparently didn't trust or didn't like, because her words were clipped short.

"I'll make this as easy on you as I can," the guy was saying.

Wrath watched as she walked over and looked outside through the glass door. She was staring right at him, but he knew she couldn't see him. He was deep in the shadows.

She opened the door and put her head out, blocking a cat's exit with her foot.

Wrath felt his breath catch as her scent came to him. She smelled positively beautiful. Like a rich flower. Night-blooming roses, maybe. He dragged more air into his lungs and closed his eyes as his body reacted, his blood stirring. Darius had been right; she was nearing her transition. He could smell it on her. Half-breed or not, she was going to go through the change.

She slid the screen in place and turned back to the man. Her voice was much clearer with the door open, and Wrath liked the husky sound of it.

"They came at me from across the street. There were two of them. The taller one pulled me into the alley and…"

Wrath snapped to attention.

"I tried to fight him off. I really did. But he was bigger than me, and then his friend pinned my arms." Her breath hiccupped. "He told me he'd cut out my tongue if I screamed, and I thought he was going to kill me, I really did. Then he ripped open my shirt and pushed up my bra. I came so close to being… But I got free and ran. He had blue eyes, brown hair, and an earring, a square cut diamond, in his left ear. He was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. I didn't get a good look at his shoes. His friend was blond, short hair, no earrings, dressed in a white T-shirt that had the name of that local band, Tomato Eater, on it."

The man got up and went to her. He put his arm around her and tried to hug her against his chest, but she pulled away and put distance between them.

"Do you really think you'll be able to get him?" she said.

The man nodded. "Yeah. I do."

Butch left Beth Randall's apartment in a foul mood.

Seeing a woman who'd been clocked in the face was not a part of his job he liked. And in Beth's case he found it particularly disturbing, because he'd known her for a while and he was kind of attracted to her. The fact that she was an unusually beautiful woman didn't make it any more egregious. But her swollen lip and the bruises around her throat were glaring defects within the otherwise perfection of her features.