“I swear to God, Ky, you are such a little Girl Scout. Maybe you can touch one? A little bit, anyway, and only in the right places.”

“Oh, you’re bad!” Even so, Kylelynn’s eyes danced with an excitement she tried to deny—or at least keep hidden.

“Bad? Me?” Amie flashed a mischievous smile, then lifted her chin to point down the path ahead of them. “Like him. Check out that posterior!” She chuckled as she said it.

Kylelynn said nothing. In fact, she’d stopped ten paces behind Amie and was staring into the underbrush. “Oh my God!” she croaked

“What is it?” asked Amie. “It can’t be better than that hunk up ahead.”

“Do you have your phone?” The color drained from Kylelynn’s face, and she drew rapid, shallow breaths.

Amie glanced at the brush at the side of the path but made no move to return to her friend’s side. “What is it?” she asked again. “We don’t want to get involved with anyone off the paths, Kylelynn. You know that.”

“Give me your phone.” It came out in a breathless rush, almost a whisper.

“Come on, hon,” said Amie. “Whatever it is, let’s leave it.”

“Your phone!”

Amie heaved a sigh and trudged back toward Kylelynn. “Come on, Ky. We don’t want to ruin the morning. Not over a homeless…” She stopped talking as she caught a glimpse of what had captured Kylelynn’s attention. “Sweet Jesus, Mother Mary, and Blessed Joseph,” Amie murmured. She swung her pack off her shoulder and fished for her cell phone, never once allowing her gaze to leave the dried-out husk hidden in the underbrush.

2

Leery Oriscoe heaved a sigh as he pulled himself out of the car and into the brisk, overcast morning. He wore a camel hair overcoat buttoned to the neck with a scarf tucked carefully under his chin. His brownish-gray hair rustled in the breeze, and he smoothed it with an irritated glance at the sky. He considered getting the black hat out of the trunk, but that belonged to his darker half and signified a belief that Leery no longer shared.

He lifted his face slightly and sniffed the air—as if his sense of smell was as refined as a tracking dog’s. He wrinkled his nose and sneezed.

“Catching a cold, Detective?” asked a uniformed officer as he approached from the park.

“Something like that,” said Leery. “You the one who called me?”

“Jim Butcher,” the cop said.

Leery nodded in an absent-minded way. “You’re from the Two Seven, right? I recognize you.”

“Sure,” said Butcher.

“Right.” Leery sighed and shook his head. “Better take me to it, Jim.”

“Sure thing, Detective.” The uniformed policeman turned his back on the street and strode into the park.

With another sigh, Leery followed. “Anyone else from the house here yet?”

Butcher shook his head. “No dicks. Just cops,” he said.

“Hey, detectives are cops, Butcher.”

Butcher lifted his hand and waved it. “Sure thing. Whatever you say, Oriscoe.”

“Answer me this, Butcher. Why us? Why call in the Special Investigations Squad? Your regular detectives will want to skin you alive.”

Again, Butcher lifted his hand and waved it. “Sure, sure. You’ll see in a second.”

“Oh, a mystery! I just love mysteries.” Leery rolled his eyes.

Butcher led him to a section of the path that had been blocked off with yellow crime scene tape. Two women in running suits stood off to the side, their heads together.

“So, Jim… Are those my two witnesses colluding over there?”

Butcher glanced over his shoulder. “Colluding?”

Leery drew a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Where I come from, Officer Butcher, we keep the wits separated until we can take their statement. You know, we try to discourage them ‘getting their stories straight.’”

Butcher stopped and waved his hand toward the two women. “Well, there they are, Detective. Feel free to tell them to stop talking.”

Leery cocked his head and looked down his impressive nose at the cop. “Better show me the body first, Butcher.”

“Sure thing.”

“And I gotta say, Butcher, your attitude leaves a little room for improvement this morning.”

As Leery stepped into the brush, he glanced back toward the street. A stunning blonde turned into the park and walked toward him, her gaze locked on his own. “Sweet God,” Leery muttered.

Butcher turned to look and let out a low whistle. “Key-rist! What a knockout.”

“She one of your detectives?”

Butcher shook his head. “I’d remember a piece like that.”

Leery glanced at him with a wry expression. “All those sensitivity classes were money well-spent, I see.”

Without taking his eyes off the blonde, Butcher hawked and spat into the woods.

The blonde came on, her gaze boring into Leery’s as if no one else existed. “She’s either a cop, or it’s my lucky day.” He scoffed. “My lucky century.”

Sparing a single glance at the two witnesses, the blonde woman walked right up to Leery and stuck out her hand. “Oriscoe?” she asked.

“That’s me,” said Leery, taking her small hand in his scarred paw. “Tell me you’re not a process server.”

“Okay. I’m not a process server.” She glanced at Butcher, then returned her gaze to Leery’s face. As their eyes met, her features shifted, blurring a little around the edges. Her hair darkened and darkened until it was a shade of black so impervious to color that it reflected the ambient light as blue highlights. Her once-blue eyes also darkened, settling on a deep red. A set of black horns sprouted from high on her forehead and pushed skyward. Even her clothing shifted from a light and airy spring dress to a black leather pants and jacket combo. A staff capped with a blood garnet leaned in the crook of her shoulder. “I’m your new partner, Detective Nogan. Call me Dru.”

“I thought you’d be a man.” His darker half squirmed within him, hackles rising.

“Disappointed?” she asked.

“Hey, I’m old, not dead.” He never once dropped his gaze away from hers. She wasn’t the first succubus he’d met.