“Will both of you please shut up?” I said in exasperation. “Bob is coming to take me to Hajo. He will stay with me the entire time, along with a couple of Dare’s men.” I glanced at Jupe. “No one’s getting in anyone’s pants. Your dad is being dramatic.”

“My dad? Dramatic?” Jupe snorted. “The Æthyr just froze over.”

“Cady,” Lon pleaded.

“I don’t want to do this—believe me. But if there’s a chance that Hajo can track the kid’s energy—”

“He tracks dead things. How do we even know he can track someone alive? What if he was just bragging?”

“He says he’ll try. Do you have a better idea? Because if you do, I’ll call him back right now and cancel the whole thing.”

“What about Cindy Brolin?”

I looked at him in confusion.

“At Starry Market. She said she was having nightmares, remember? Maybe they weren’t just old memories. She was the one who got away—what if Chora has been possessing her against her will, without her knowledge?”

Jupe gave Lon a questioning look. “Cindy Brolin could be the Snatcher?”

“She works night shift at the market,” I said. “Which means she sleeps during the day. The demon is possessing someone who’s taking the kids during the night—when she’s at work.”

“Maybe she did it on her days off,” Lon said, but without much conviction.

“Call the market and give the manager some legitimate-sounding reason for him to tell you when she worked the last two weeks,” I said. “If her off-time overlaps with the snatchings, then Hajo and I can start looking there.”

Silence fell.

“What does he want in payment this time?” Lon asked quietly.

“I didn’t ask.”

After a few moments, Lon walked around the sofa and slouched next to me. He pulled me closer. I laid my head against his chest and closed my eyes. “Think about boarding up some of the windows or holing up in the basement. I need to rest now. Wake me if you discover anything damning about Cindy Brolin’s schedule.”

Lon agreed and I took a restless nap on the couch. He didn’t wake me after calling the market; Cindy Brolin had worked during all six kidnappings—she wasn’t involved.

Bob was late. He pulled up in my driveway just before twilight. Foxglove barked her head off, circling his legs. “Oh! I don’t like dogs,” he said, jumping to the side.

I tugged Foxglove’s collar. “Dogs don’t seem to like you either. Get inside.”

Upon entering my house, Bob greeted Lon in a cheerfully strained voice. “Mr. Butler.”

Lon didn’t answer.

Bob’s smile cracked. He looked beyond Lon. “This must be your son.”

Jupe paused The Mummy—“The good one from 1932, with Boris Karloff,” he had told me, when I mistook it for the newer franchise—and inspected Bob with curiosity. “Are you the junkie?”

“No, this is my friend Bob,” I said. “I know him from Tambuku. He’s a healer,” I added, just to make sure Jupe disconnected Bob from the junkie thing.

“Oh, cool,” Jupe said. “I like your shirt.”

More hula girls. At least it was PG and not an R-rated one—Hawaiian leis covered their breasts.

“It’s vintage,” Bob said.

“That’s pretty cool. I like old stuff.”

Bob cleared his throat. “Uh, Cady said it was your birthday. I brought some Halloween candy.” He offered Jupe a plastic bag shaped like an upside-down witch hat.

Jupe gave him a toothy smile. “Wow! Thanks, man.”

Lon’s face told me everything he was thinking, namely that this was a violation of Jupe’s no-sugar rule, and that he was considering the possibility that Bob had filled the candy with razor blades. I put a hand on Lon’s arm and shook my head. It was the boy’s birthday, for Pete’s sake.

“Hey, do you know Kar Yee, too?” Jupe asked.

“Sure. I see her every day.”

“Every day? Do you work there or something?”

“He likes tiki drinks,” I said.

Jupe eyed him suspiciously. “You must like them a lot.”

“Cady’s the best bartender in the city,” Bob said proudly.

“She makes good smoothies,” Jupe said matter-of-factly. “But my dad’s a better cook.”

Don’t spare my feelings, kid.

Bob leaned against the sofa while I got my jacket. “So,” he said, still attempting to woo Lon’s good grace through his son, “I heard all the schools had closed in La Sirena. What about yours?”

“Yep. Good thing, too. It was getting crazy stressful up in that place.”

“Oh?”

“The teachers turned into tyrants. I’ve got this one teacher, Ms. Forsythe, who’s really cool, but she’s super-religious, and she’s always giving me extra homework for cussing in class, because she says it’s wrong.” Jupe rolled his eyes. “But she was so stressed out the day the school closed that she said ‘I don’t give a damn’ in front of one of the parents.” Jupe gave a single, loud laugh. “I almost lost my shit. It was awesome. I wonder if she’ll have go to confession for that?”

“Jupe,” Lon warned halfheartedly.

Bob shifted. Foxglove started barking again.

“Hush, you damn mutt,” Jupe complained. “We’re in the city tonight. You can’t act like that here.”