Or the fact that I would kill him, when the time came.

   Because that sweet, innocent little girl was long gone, and this stone-cold killer would do whatever it took to protect the friends and family that she had left.

   Feeling much calmer, I raised my glass in a toast to Fletcher’s photo. “Good talk.”

   I downed the gin and set the empty glass aside. Then I got to my feet, turned off the lights, and went back to Owen to try to get what sleep I could tonight.

5

   I didn’t think that I would sleep, but eventually my questions faded away, and I snuggled up next to Owen and slipped into a soothing blackness.

   I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and already plotting how I could find out what Damian Rivera had done that had upset Tucker. Maybe I could kidnap and put the squeeze on Rivera, threaten to go public with his many sins, unless he told me who the leader of the Circle was. After that, well, I would have to keep Rivera from ratting me out to Tucker.

   Of course, the obvious answer was to kill him. I didn’t have any problem with that, but I couldn’t just stab him to death the way I normally would. Tucker would realize that it was me and that I was onto him and the rest of the Circle, and then I’d totally lose the element of surprise. No, I’d have to figure out some other way to silence Rivera, something that looked like a plausible accident. I hadn’t done many of those sorts of jobs as the Spider, but I’d think of something.

   I always did.

   Owen and I chowed down on a light but filling breakfast of egg-white omelets loaded with spinach, cheddar cheese, and ham, along with whipped vanilla Greek yogurt topped with crunchy homemade granola and fresh fruit. Once we’d finished eating, we went our separate ways for the day.

   I headed upstairs, showered, and changed into a pair of black boots and jeans, topped by a royal-blue sweater. My spider rune pendant glinted brightly against the fabric, while a matching ring glimmered on my right index finger. Normally, I wore my rune tucked away inside my clothes, but today I wanted it out for everyone to see. I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was my own small way of officially declaring war on Rivera and Tucker.

   Whatever it was, it felt good.

   It was almost nine thirty by the time I drove downtown, parked my car, and made my way to the Pork Pit, my barbecue restaurant. I stood at the corner of the brick building and eyed the flow of traffic on the street and sidewalks, but the air was bitterly cold, with a few flurries fluttering on the breeze, and people all ducked their heads and hurried on toward their destinations.

   No one gave me a second glance, so I did my usual check for rune traps and bombs on the front door and windows. Finding everything clean, I headed inside to do another equally thorough check. But no one had broken into the restaurant overnight, so I pulled a blue apron on over my clothes and got to work.

   The first thing I did was mix a big vat of Fletcher’s secret barbecue sauce and let it simmer away on one of the back burners. The rich, heady smell of cumin, black pepper, and other spices permeated the restaurant, making it feel warm and inviting. Once the sauce was cooking, I moved on to my other chores, including wiping down all the tables and the long counter that ran along the back wall.

   About ten o’clock, a loud knock sounded on the front door, followed by the click of a key turning in the lock. Silvio Sanchez, my personal assistant, stepped inside and shut and locked the door behind him. The vampire sighed as he took off his hat and jacket and unwound the thick gray scarf from around his neck.

   “Days like this make me glad that you work out of a restaurant,” he said. “No matter how cold the weather, it’s always nice and toasty-warm in here.”

   “Happy to oblige,” I drawled.

   I finished wiping down the counter, then moved over to the stove to stir the still-simmering sauce. Silvio sat on his usual stool at the counter, pulled out his phone and tablet, and fired everything up for the morning briefing.

   “So I got your texts last night, and I have to admit that I’m as baffled as Finn is,” Silvio said, swiping through some screens on his tablet. “I can’t imagine what Damian Rivera has possibly done to warrant a personal visit from Hugh Tucker. Apart from his recent DUI arrest and general boorish and drunken state, Rivera’s been behaving himself lately.”

   “Well, he’s done something wrong, and I want to know what it is. Especially since he seems like the easiest member of the Circle to interrogate and then eliminate.”

   “Agreed,” Silvio said. “Rivera does seem to be the weak link in this chain of evil. I’ll keep digging into him.”

   While Silvio texted and emailed his contacts, I took the barbecue sauce off the burner to let it cool and started on something new. Milk and dark cocoa powder went into a small pot, along with a splash of vanilla extract and a cinnamon stick. A few minutes later, I pushed a steaming mug of hot chocolate, topped with a large dollop of vanilla whipped cream, mini marshmallows, and a generous drizzle of homemade chocolate sauce, across the counter to Silvio.

   He took a sip and sighed with pleasure. “You know, I’m starting to get spoiled with all the hot chocolate and cookies and food all the time,” he grumbled. “I’ve had to add five miles to my workout routine every week just to burn off all the extra calories.”

   “I do try.” I grinned. “And all that grumbling would sound a whole lot more convincing if you didn’t have a whipped cream mustache right now.”

   Silvio gave me a sour look and wiped away the offensive whipped cream with a napkin, but he kept right on sipping his hot chocolate, and he took the refill that I gave him several minutes later.

   By the time Catalina Vasquez, Silvio’s niece and my best waitress, and Sophia Deveraux, my head cook, came into the restaurant, the vampire was on his third mug of hot chocolate. Catalina rolled silverware into napkins, while Sophia and I started on the day’s cooking. The rest of the waitstaff trickled in one by one, and as soon as I opened the front door at eleven o’clock sharp, customers streamed in, eager to get somewhere warm and cozy, just like Silvio.