Karl started when Castle spoke to him, but he answered quickly enough. "Humans," he said. "It would take time, and the cost in human blood would be high, but I'm pretty sure the humans would win in the end."

  "I'm not disagreeing with your conclusion," Castle said, "but I'd be interested to know what led you to it."

  Karl shrugged. "Numbers, for one thing. Although the census data is bullshit, it's still clear that humans outnumber supernaturals – ten to one, twenty to one, who knows? But it's a big difference."

  "I would agree with that," Castle said, "even though I don't know the exact proportion myself. Anything else?"

  "Supernaturals have weaknesses – some of them do, anyway."

  Karl had said "some of them", not "some of us".

  "Vampires are stronger and faster than humans," Karl went on, "and they have other advantages, like using Influence. But during daylight hours, a vampire is as helpless as a corpse – because that's what he is."

  "And werewolves are just like humans, most of the time," I said. "They can only transform in moonlight, and then if they run into a silver bullet, they're toast."

  Castle nodded, as if we were the two brightest pupils in class. "And what about magic practitioners?"

  I looked at Karl, who said, "Some witches and wizards are real powerful – but nobody's all-powerful. Magic is limited by time and space and a bunch of other stuff I don't really understand."

  "And practitioners aren't invulnerable, either," I said. "Especially if they're taken by surprise. What's happened to those poor witches is proof of that."

  "Right on both counts, unfortunately," Castle said.

  "I'm pretty sure we'd win, but the supes, uh, supernaturals would do a lot of damage first," I said. "Humans would survive, but I'm not positive that human society would."

  Castle nodded. "A costly victory, to be sure."

  "So the bottom line," I said, "is that in a war between humans and supernaturals, there'd be no real winner."

  "Yes, Sergeant," Castle said. "That conclusion is both true, and irrelevant."

  I stared at him. "Where do you get 'irrelevant'?"

  "I mean, it doesn't matter whether a race war would be a good idea. The important thing is whether someone thinks it's a good idea."

  "OK, now I'm confused," Karl said.

  I waited for Castle to explain, although I was pretty sure that I'd grasped his meaning.

  "It's like invading Russia," Castle said, "which military experts have said for centuries is a truly bad idea. The country is simply too vast for an invading army to subdue quickly, and the Russian winter makes an extended campaign impossible."

  "Makes sense to me," Karl said with a shrug, and I just nodded.

  "And yet that obvious fact didn't stop Napoleon from trying it in 1812, or Hitler in 1940. And each time, it cost the lives of a great many people – on both sides."

  Karl nodded slowly. "It really doesn't matter if a race war is a bad idea, as long as some dumb-ass somewhere thinks it's a good idea."

  "Exactly," Castle said. "Which brings me back to the original question: Cui bono? Or maybe I should rephrase it as: Cui cogitat bono?"

  "Who thinks to benefit?" I said. I'd had four years of Latin in high school, and when the nuns teach you something, it tends to stay with you a long time. Terror and pain will do that.

  Karl just shook his head. "So what you two professors are getting at is – what nut, or group of nuts, is crazy enough to try starting Helter Skelter here in Scranton?"

  "Admirably put, Detective," Castle said.

  There was silence in the car until I said, "I don't know how much weight I want to put on this, but the Catholic Church comes to mind. After all, they've declared all supernaturals to be 'anathema'."

  "I know," Castle said. "Such nonsense."

  "Nonsense?" Karl said. "Then why can't I go to church anymore, huh? How come the sight of a cross makes me want to puke my guts out?"

  "I have given much thought to that question over the years," Castle said, "and have concluded that vampires' aversion to religious symbols is psychological, more than anything else. Popular culture has told you, over and over, that vampires fear the cross. Therefore, once you became a vampire, you felt fear and revulsion when in the presence of a cross, or other religious symbol. You believed you were supposed to, therefore you did."

  "That's what you think?" Karl said angrily. "Well, I think you ought to–"

  "Nine Alpha Six, this is Dispatch. Come in, please."

  I don't usually consider radio calls a blessing, but this one sure was. I grabbed the radio.

  "Dispatch, this is Markowski. Go ahead."

  "We have a report of a 666-Bravo at the Radisson hotel. Lieutenant McGuire says it's all yours. Over."

  666-Bravo was a homicide involving a supernatural. Was this stuff never going to stop? And I know McGuire's a fair boss – if he was giving this call to us, it meant the other teams on shift were busy elsewhere.

  Helter Skelter, baby. Helter Skelter.

  "Roger that, Dispatch. You got a room number for us, or should we knock on all the doors until somebody dead answers?"

  Come to think of it, having a corpse answering the door at that place might not be such a big deal.

  Ignoring my feeble attempt at sarcasm, the dispatcher said, "Affirmative, Markowski. Room number is four three one. I repeat, four three one. Do you copy?"

  "Roger that, Dispatch. We're on our way. Markowski out."

  I wished I'd let Karl take the radio call – he likes saying stuff like that. It might've cheered him up a little, too.

  Karl turned to me. "Four thirty-one at the Radisson? Isn't that–"

  "Mister Milo and his pet ghouls," I said. "It sure is."