"I believe she's the only person I've met who is actually looking forward to meeting with the Hashmallim," Theo said thoughtfully, watching Sarah as she toddled over to the pub counter and handed over her credit card.

"She's not normal. She was dropped on her head several times as a baby. It left her mentally deranged. We all just pretend she's sane."

"I heard that!" she shouted, glaring at me from the counter.

"She also has very good hearing," I said, sighing as I gathered up my things.

"It'll be all right, sweet. I'll be with you this time," Theo reminded me.

It took some doing, but Theo's powers of persuasion proved to be too much for the Guardian named Noelle who had previously summoned the ill-fated demon.

"Now what happens?" I asked several hours later, as we sat huddled on a fallen tree trunk that edged one side of an empty gravel parking lot for an abandoned fish factory at the far side of town.

Noelle rubbed out the markings she'd drawn in the gravel and dirt with the toe of her shoe. "Now you wait. The Hashmallim has been summoned—he will show up whenever he wants. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you for your time," Theo said, rising to shake her hand. "Er…you didn't tell me what payment we owe you for your help."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Noelle said, giving us all a bright smile. It was dark in that corner of the parking lot, long flickering shadows stretching across it from the feeble light attached near a corner of the building, but Noelle's down-to-earth appearance and cheerful personality did much to eliminate the serious case of the creeps I'd had ever since I resigned myself to the thought of having to speak with one of the ghostly Hashmallim. "I get a stipend from the Guardian Guild to be used on such cases as I deem needy. You lot look like you could use a bit of good news, so this one will be complimentary."

We all thanked her. Theo escorted her across the parking lot to where her little blue Mini sat.

"You got yourself a winner this time," Sarah said as she watched them walk away. "What does it feel like being a Dark One's Beloved?"

Theo's mind touched mine, warm and reassuring, filled with tender emotions that made my stomach flutter with happiness. "It's…indescribable."

She peered closer at me. "You love him, don't you?"

"Yes." I smiled, unable to keep the happiness from spilling out of me. "More than any other man. We had a less-than-sterling start, but I know now that he's the man I was meant to be with."

"That's so romantic," she said with a sigh. "Does it hurt when he bites you?"

"Just for a second, then it's really…well, to be blunt, it's pretty darn erotic."

"Oh, man." She pursed her lips and looked at Theo as he stood chatting with Noelle. "You have a gorgeous, drop-dead-sexy man who clearly worships the ground you walk on, you're never going to age, never face sagging boobs and menopause and grey hair, and you get your jollies every time he needs to eat. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

"As a matter of fact, I—holy cow!"

Some sort of a shimmering portal opened up directly in front of me, so close I felt static from the little snakes of electricity that sparked off it. I fell backward off the log as an empty black shape formed almost directly on top of me, the sudden skin-crawling wrongness of the Hashmallim bursting to life in my brain.

Theo! I screamed as I crawled backward, trying to avoid contact with the Hashmallim. Panic filled me, threatening to send me teetering over the edge of control. "Theo!"

"I'm here," he said, racing over to me, stepping between the still-approaching Hashmallim and myself. Somehow, his body seemed to block some of the horrible sensations the Hashmallim's presence was causing, leaving me able to dampen the rest enough so I could get to my feet.

"Wow," Sarah said, her expression a mixture of curiosity and terror. She grabbed my arm and clung on with a grip that would no doubt leave bruises. "OK, I see what you mean about them being unpleasant to be around. They look…wrong somehow. Just wrong. Like they're empty black shells of what people are. I think I'm going to forgo my interview."

I swallowed down a thick lump that made my throat ache, moving closer to Theo. I'm sure the picture we presented—the three of us clumped up together in a tight bunch—was amusing, but that was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment.

"Hashmallim, you honor us with your presence," Theo said in a strained voice, his usual elegant bow coming out a bit less than perfect.

"Why am I summoned, champion?" The Hashmallim's voice matched its image—flat and devoid of all emotion, yet awful at the same time.

"Oh my god, it has nothing, absolutely nothing in it," Sarah whispered in my ear as she clung to my back. "Not a face, not a shadow, not even a glimmer of depth."

I held onto Theo, silently drawing comfort from his broad, strong back.

"This is so amazing. I've never seen anything like it. It would be a bad idea to take a picture, wouldn't it?"

"Very." I struggled with the impossibility that was the Hashmallim, aware that as it had before, its very presence seemed to fill the surroundings with despair.

"We seek answers that only you can give us," Theo said, his voice steady. My awe and appreciation of him went up another few notches. "We would like information about the virtue Hope."

The Hashmallim's shape seemed to shimmer for a moment, then moved to the side to look at me, if such a thing was possible. Sarah gasped, and hid behind me. I knew just how she felt—at that moment, I would have just about given anything to close my eyes and hide from the Hashmallim. "What do you seek, Portia Harding?"

I swallowed down my fear, pulling strength from the comfort Theo silently offered me. "We seek the name of the murderer of Hope. I don't suppose your investigations have led you to a conclusion about that?"

The Hashmallim seemed to swell, blotting out the night sky around us.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sarah muttered, and ran for the grassy verge beyond the parking lot. I fought down the bile that rose in my own throat, struggling to keep control of my emotions.

"That of which you speak does not exist," the Hashmallim said, its form twisting and turning upon itself in an endless dance of horror.

"Are there any suspects?" I asked, trying desperately to remember the list of questions we'd agreed to ask.

"Portia Harding."

"Other than me," I said, clinging to Theo, drinking in the warmth of his body.

"That which you seek does not exist."

That's the second time he's said that. What does it mean? I asked Theo.

It means something is up, he answered slowly, his mind busily sorting through ideas. I gave him full marks for being able to think while confronting the abomination before us.

I mentally girded my loins, and ventured another question. "Exactly when was she killed?"

"That which you seek does not exist."

If I wasn't at the point where I could quite possibly die of fear, I'd be annoyed at that.

Hmm. Interesting. Theo's words were thoughtful. "Do you mean that Hope was not murdered, that she died from other causes?"

The Hashmallim continued to face me, violating every rule of physics, its flat nothingness sucking the gaze in and holding it. "That which you seek does not exist."

An idea bloomed in my head. I could tell by the dawning enlightenment in Theo's face that it occurred to him, as well.

I cleared my throat. "Are you saying, then, that Hope has not died?"

"Confirmation," the Hashmallim said.

She's not dead, I said in stunned disbelief. Why does everyone think she's dead if she's not?

I don't know, but I intend to find out.