"Is it?" I settled onto the bed. "Do you remember what she said when we first met her? She started off on the opposite end of the spectrum. A seeker. Only after getting burned did she switch sides." I turned to Jeremy. "Eve met this guy in the afterlife who was running a poltergeist school. He had the gift, which is rare, but instead of trying to seriously teach others, he used it to entice nymphs to his school… and his bed. Nymphs made an easy target because, in the afterlife, they're always looking for power. They get plopped into a world full of supernatural ghosts, but they themselves have lost their powers."

"Except cheerleading," Eve said. "They make very good cheerleaders."

"When Aratron was here, he talked about the evolution of the supernatural. There are people out there who have supernatural blood, but because their original powers are no longer useful, they don't know it. Isn't it possible that some sense they might be different? I've met people like May Donovan, who seem driven to seek out magic and supernatural answers. Maybe because they have the blood, but not the power."

Eve snapped her fingers. "That could explain why the magic is working. Latent supernatural blood. Like quarter-demon crossbreeds." When I looked at her, she said, "Half-demons don't pass on their powers to the children, right? But they say that the blood still counts, gives any other supernatural powers a boost. So Savannah doesn't have my demon powers, but she probably gets an added bump to her spellcasting."

I passed her words on to Jeremy, who considered them as I went on. "Let's say May Donovan has this drive because of her latent powers. She seeks out knowledge, but gets nowhere. So she flips sides- works out her frustration by uncovering scams while still secretly searching those scams for truth. Even after she found a backdoor in, she'd keep up the front-both searching for new magics and to protect herself." I paused. "Do you think she knows about Hope's powers? Maybe that's why she made contact in the first place."

"Possible," Jeremy said. "But it's equally likely that she simply makes it her business to be involved in everything paranormal in this city, including offering her assistance to a new tabloid reporter who covers the supernatural. If Hope uncovered something, May would be among the first to know."

"Which is exactly what happened."

WE SET about brainstorming. The most obvious way to test our theory would be to take advantage of May's invitation and trap her. But we had no way of knowing how many people were involved or what magics they had.

Almost an hour passed. Then Jeremy's cell phone rang.

"It's Hope," he said before answering. "I should have called her."

A couple of minutes later, he hung up. "Zack Flynn wants to meet with us. He says he hasnews."

"The reporter? But he's part of the Ehrich Weiss Society, which means he's probably in this magic group with May too, so why-" I stopped. "Because I wouldn't see May or return her call. Now he's giving it a shot."

"So it would seem. I told Hope to stall him and said we'd meet her in thirty minutes."

"Go out? Is that safe?"

"We'll be careful. But we have to go to her. There's someone I need to talk to."

BEING A Saturday, Hope had spent the day at her apartment, waiting for instructions from Jeremy. When we arrived, he walked to the head of the narrow road leading around her building. There he stopped, sniffing the air. When the way was clear, he crouched to pick up a trail.

When he straightened, he led me down an alley. I knew if he didn't explain, it was either because he didn't want to worry me or because he didn't want to speak prematurely.

We looped around another building coming out… somewhere. My sense of direction is lousy and here, surrounded by buildings, I didn't even have the sun to check. Another road, another alley.

When the dirt under our feet turned to gravel, Jeremy motioned for me to wait. Then he carried on, slowly and silently, not so much as a rock rolling underfoot. As he approached an alcove, he eased along the wall and stopped at the edge. Though he was too far and too hidden in shadow for me to see clearly, I could picture him sniffing, listening, waiting.

Then he stepped out into the opening.

"Hello, Karl."

His voice echoed down the empty alley and was drowned out by a curse of surprise. Jeremy motioned me toward him.

There, in the shadows, was Karl Marsten.

A recent addition to the Pack, after several years of "fence-sitting," Karl was a jewel thief, and looked like Hollywood's version of one. Dark haired with sharp features and sharper gray-blue eyes. With his pressed pants, linen shirt, Italian loafers, faint tan and manicured fingernails, he looked like an action hero idling on the sidelines while his stunt double worked up a sweat for him. But from what Elena said, he was quite capable of working up that sweat all by himself, and those expensive clothes did little to disguise a powerful build. A dangerous man hiding beneath the veneer of a bored sophisticate.

By the time I arrived, he'd overcome his surprise and was eying Jeremy with a half-smile that seemed almost rueful.

"Dare I ask how long you've known I was around?" Karl said. "Or, perhaps not. You'll shatter my delusions of stealth."

I looked at Jeremy. "So that's whose scent you've been picking up these last couple of days. Elena didn't have him standing by in Arizona after all."

Jeremy said, "I'm not the one he's been watching."