"Findlay could be working for someone else. A gang or a counter Cabal group..." He trailed off, gaze sliding up, as if making mental notes. "I'll check that out. In the meantime, I pulled up our records on clairvoyants in L.A."

"And..."

"Current records? None. At least, none who aren't already on the payroll."

"You have two clairvoyants on staff, don't you?"

He nodded. "Granddad brags about that, but it's not as impressive as it sounds. One has severely limited powers and the other is approaching retirement."

She noticed he didn't say "approaching retirement age." Cabal clairvoyants rarely survived long enough to collect Social Security checks. "The Cabal must be looking for a replacement, then."

"Even if they had a powerful one at every satellite office they'd still be looking for more. It's an incredibly valuable power. The problem is finding them. With rare half-demons, like an Expisco or Ferratus, sometimes we get lucky and you guys come to us for work. Other times, we stumble on you and the negotiating begins. We'll take no for an answer because we know somewhere out there is another one willing to say yes. We want to entice you into employment.

Voluntary employment. It's just good business. That never happens with clairvoyants. They're well compensated – come to us and you'll live like a millionaire – but it's selling your soul."

"Or, in this case, your sanity."

He nodded. "Clairvoyants have underground networks for hiding and protecting their members. Even if a family hasn't had a bona fide clairvoyant for generations, they're part of the network, ready to disappear if they ever do. They also have the lowest birth rate of all the races. Intentionally, it's presumed."

"Genetic Russian roulette."

"Most choose not to play."

She'd gotten all this from Lucas, but talking obviously relaxed Sean, and a second opinion never hurt.

He continued. "This girl is young and she seems to be voluntarily talking to Irving. As for why, my guess would be simple youthful ignorance. She figures she can make a lot of money and get out. It happens now and then – the misconception, not the getting-out part. My guess is that her family isn't part of the underground network and hasn't properly warned her. She's moved here recently, on her own, hoping to make her fortune."

She studied his face for any sign he was misleading her. But it was open, relaxed, his hands flat on the table. In his element now, not discussing his family or his firm, just having a casual speculative conversation with a fellow supernatural.

"I don't think she's new to L.A., and I don't think she's alone," Hope said.

"With other supernaturals?"

"Other clairvoyants."

That made him blink in genuine surprise, but even after he'd digested it, there was no gleam of discovery. It was like a diver finding a treasure chest and thinking only of the historical significance.

She was sure Sean Nast was good at his job. He had to be – Irving was proof that Cabals didn't promote on genetics alone. But whatever instinct was needed to truly embrace a Cabal family's philosophy, to look at a fellow supernatural and see only an asset, Sean didn't have it.

Still, she didn't mention Adele's paparazzo double life or her teenaged clairvoyant partner. However much Lucas trusted Sean, Hope had learned her lesson often enough. In this world, when you can keep your mouth shut, do it.

They talked a little more, and he promised to dig deeper into the Cabal files. Then she finished her tea and called for a taxi.

FINN

Twenty minutes after Finn left Sean Nast's office, the young man had come out the front door and headed to a sandwich shop. Then they'd watched as Nast did exactly what Finn had expected – he'd met someone. Just not anyone Finn expected.

"You said this was Adams's second work exchange in Los Angeles?"

"Huh?" Damon jerked, blinking, from his thoughts. "Right. She did one a couple of years ago – You think that's how she knows this guy?"

"She clearly knows him." Finn waved at the pair sitting in the window. "And it's gotta be related to what's going on... unless the girl I've been trying to contact all day just happens to be messing around with the guy who just blew me off."

"Hope wouldn't screw around on Karl." Damon studied the couple. "It must be connected, but it's not coming together for me."

It wasn't coming together for Finn either.

"How well do you know her?" he asked.

"Hope? Of Bobby's friends, I know her the best. You know how it is. Well, maybe not, but when you marry someone, they bring their friends along. For better or worse. When your wife tells you one of them is coming over, sometimes you suddenly remember library books that need returning. Sometimes you retreat to watch the game or grade papers. And sometimes you say 'cool' and stick around. Hope was one I always stuck around for."

"They're close, I take it."

"Friends since high school. Hope's got her own stuff going on and they might not spend as much time together as they used to, but if you ask Bobby who is her best friend, she'd say Hope. Hope took this work exchange to help Bobby. I'm sure of it. Whatever is happening here, it's all about that. Helping Bobby."

Finn waved for Damon to go inside and eavesdrop on the conversation.

Ten minutes later, Hope Adams was standing and putting on her jacket. Damon came down the restaurant steps and hurried to Finn.

"So..." Finn said.

"I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

Finn gave him a moment before repeating the question. Damon didn't answer, only watched the shop door, eyes following Hope as she appeared on the stoop with Nast. They walked down to the sidewalk, still talking.

"What did they say?" Finn asked.

"I don't know."

"You couldn't hear them?"

"I just... I have no idea what they were talking about. It didn't make sense."

"Code?"

"You use code when you don't want to be overheard saying something strange, right? If that's what they were doing, they were totally blowing it, because that was the strangest conversation I've ever heard."